, 


DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET 

a  iRomance 

BY 

NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE 


EDITED,    WITH    PREFACE    AND    NOTES 
BY 

JULIAN    HAWTHORNE 


BOSTON 

JAMES   R.  OSGOOD  AND   COMPANY 
1883 


Copyright,  1882, 
BY  JULIAN  HAWTHORNE 

All  rights  reserved. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


TO 

MR.  AND   MRS.  GEORGE   PARSONS   LATHROP, 
Cije  &0n*m*!Lafo  anti  JiatiflJjter 

OF 

NATHANIEL    HAWTHORNE, 

THIS  ROMANCE  is  DEDICATED 

BY 

THE    EDITOR. 


PREFACE. 


A  PKEFACE  generally  begins  with  a  truism ;  and 
"^^  I  may  set  out  with  the  admission  that  it  is  not 
always  expedient  to  bring  to  light  the  posthumous 
work  of  great  writers.  A  man  generally  contrives 
to  publish,  during  his  lifetime,  quite  as  much  as  the 
public  has  time  or  inclination  to  read ;  and  his  sur- 
viving friends  are  apt  to  show  more  zeal  than  dis- 
cretion in  dragging  forth  from  his  closed  desk  such 
undeveloped  offspring  of  his  mind  as  he  himself  had 
left  to  silence.  Literature  has  never  been  redundant 
with  authors  who  sincerely  undervalue  their  own  pro- 
ductions ;  and  the  sagacious  critics  who  maintain  that 
what  of  his  own  an  author  condemns  must  be  doubly 
damnable,  are,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  as  often  likely  to 
be  right  as  wrong. 

Beyond  these  general  remarks,  however,  it  does  not 
seem  necessary  to  adopt  an  apologetic  attitude.  There 
is  nothing  in  the  present  volume  which  any  one  pos- 
sessed of  brains  and  cultivation  will  not  be  thankful 


vi  PREFACE. 

to  read.  The  appreciation  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's 
writings  is  more  intelligent  and  wide-spread  than  it 
used  to  be ;  and  the  later  development  of  our  national 
literature  has  not,  perhaps,  so  entirely  exhausted  our 
resources  of  admiration  as  to  leave  no  welcome  for  even 
the  less  elaborate  work  of  a  contemporary  of  Dickens 
and  Thackeray.  As  regards  "  Doctor  Grimshawe's 
Secret/'  — the  title  which,  for  lack  of  a  better,  has  been 
given  to  this  Eomance, — it  can  scarcely  be  pronounced 
deficient  in  either  elaboration  or  profundity.  Had 
Mr.  Hawthorne  written  out  the  story  in  every  part 
to  its  full  dimensions,  it  could  not  have  failed  to  rank 
among  the  greatest  of  his  productions.  He  had  looked 
forward  to  it  as  to  the  crowning  achievement  of  his 
literary  career.  In  the  Preface  to  "  Our  Old  Home  " 
he  alludes  to  it  as  a  work  into  which  he  proposed  to 
convey  more  of  various  modes  of  truth  than  he  could 
have  grasped  by  a  direct  effort.  But  circumstances 
prevented  him  from  perfecting  the  design  which  had 
been  before  his  mind  for  seven  years,  and  upon  the 
shaping  of  which  he  bestowed  more  thought  and  labor 
than  upon  anything  else  he  had  undertaken.  The 
successive  and  consecutive  series  of  notes  or  studies  * 

*  These  studies,  extracts  from  which  will  be  published  in  one  of 
our  magazines,  are  hereafter  to  be  added,  in  their  complete  form,  to 
the  Appendix  of  this  volume. 


PREFACE.  Vil 

which  he  wrote  for  this  Eomance  would  of  themselves 
make  a  small  volume,  and  one  of  autobiographical  as 
well  as  literary  interest.  There  is  no  other  instance, 
that  I  happen  to  have  met  with,  in  which  a  writer's 
thought  reflects  itself  upon  paper  so  immediately  and 
sensitively  as  in  these  studies.  To  read  them  is  to 
look  into  the  man's  mind,  and  see  its  quality  and 
action.  The  penetration,  the  subtlety,  the  tenacity ; 
the  stubborn  gripe  which  he  lays  upon  his  subject, 
like  that  of  Hercules  upon  the  slippery  Old  Man  of 
the  Sea ;  the  clear  and  cool  common-sense,  controlling 
the  audacity  of  a  rich  and  ardent  imagination ;  the 
humorous  gibes  and  strange  expletives  wherewith  he 
ridicules,  to  himself,  his  own  failure  to  reach  his  goal ; 
the  immense  patience  with  which  —  again  and  again, 
and  yet  again  —  he  "  tries  back,"  throwing  the  topic 
into  fresh  attitudes,  and  searching  it  to  the  marrow 
with  a  gaze  so  piercing  as  to  be  terrible ;  —  all  this 
gives  an  impression  of  power,  of  resource,  of  energy, 
of  mastery,  that  exhilarates  the  reader.  So  many 
inspired  prophets  of  Hawthorne  have  arisen  of  late, 
that  the  present  writer,  whose  relation  to  the  great 
Eomancer  is  a  filial  one  merely,  may  be  excused  for 
feeling  some  embarrassment  in  submitting  his  own 
uninstructed  judgments  to  competition  with  theirs. 
It  has  occurred  to  him,  however,  that  these  undress 


viii  PREFA  CE. 

rehearsals  of  the  author  of  "The  Scarlet  Letter"  might 
afford  entertaining  and  even  profitable  reading  to  the 
later  generation  of  writers  whose  pleasant  fortune  it  is 
to  charm  one  another  and  the  public.  It  would  appear 
that  this  author,  in  his  preparatory  work  at  least,  has 
ventured  in  some  manner  to  disregard  the  modern 
canons  which  debar  writers  from  betraying  towards 
their  creations  any  warmer  feeling  than  a  cultured 
and  critical  indifference  :  nor  was  his  interest  in  hu- 
man nature  such  as  to  confine  him  to  the  dissection  of 
the  moral  epidermis  of  shop-girls  and  hotel-boarders. 
On  the  contrary,  we  are  presented  with  the  spectacle 
of  a  Titan,  baring  his  arms  and  plunging  heart  and  soul 
into  the  arena,  there  to  struggle  for  death  or  victory 
with  the  superb  phantoms  summoned  to  the  conflict 
by  his  own  genius.  The  men  of  new  times  and  new 
conditions  will  achieve  their  triumphs  in  new  ways  ; 
but  it  may  still  be  worth  while  to  consider  the  meth- 
ods and  materials  of  one  who  also,  in  his  own  fashion, 
won  and  wore  the  laurel  of  those  who  know  and  can 
portray  the  human  heart. 

.But  let  us  return  to  the  Eomance,  in  whose 
clear  though  shadowy  atmosphere  the  thunders  and 
throes  of  the  preparatory  struggle  are  inaudible  and 
invisible,  save  as  they  are  implied  in  the  fineness  of 
substance  and  beauty  of  form  of  the  artistic  struc- 


PREFACE.  ix 

ture.  The  story  is  divided  into  two  parts,  the  scene 
of  the  first  being  laid  in  America  ;  that  of  the  second, 
in  England.  Internal  evidence  of  various  kinds  goes 
to  show  that  the  second  part  was  the  first  written ;  or, 
in  other  words,  that  the  present  first  part  is  a  rewriting 
of  an  original  first  part,  afterwards  discarded,  and  of 
which  the  existing  second  part  is  the  continuation. 
The  two  parts  overlap,  and  it  shall  be  left  to  the  inge- 
nuity of  critics  to  detect  the  precise  point  of  junction. 
In  rewriting  the  first  part,  the  author  made  sundry 
minor  alterations  in  the  plot  and  characters  of  the 
story,  which  alterations  were  not  carried  into  the  sec- 
ond part.  It  results  from  this  that  the  manuscript 
presents  various  apparent  inconsistencies.  In  tran- 
scribing the  work  for  the  press,  these  inconsistent  sen- 
tences and  passages  have  been  withdrawn  from  the 
text  and  inserted  in  the  Appendix ;  or,  in  a  few  un- 
important instances,  omitted  altogether.  In  other  re- 
spects, the  text  is  printed  as  the  author  left  it,  with 
the  exception  of  the  names  of  the  characters.  In  the 
manuscript  each  personage  figures  in  the  course  of 
the  narrative  under  from  three  to  six  different  names. 
This  difficulty  has  been  met  by  bestowing  upon  each 
of  the  dramatis  psrsonce  the  name  which  last  identi- 
fied him  to  the  author's  mind,  and  keeping  him  to  it 
throughout  the  volume. 


x  PREFACE. 

The  story,  as  a  story,  is  complete  as  it  stands ;  it 
has  a  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end.  There  is  no 
break  in  the  narrative,  and  the  legitimate  conclusion 
is  reached.  To  say  that  the  story  is  complete  as  a 
work  of  art,  would  be  quite  another  matter.  It  lacks 
balance  and  proportion.  Some  characters  and  inci- 
dents are  portrayed  with  minute  elaboration ;  others, 
perhaps  not  less  important,  are  merely  sketched  in 
outline.  Beyond  a  doubt  it  was  the  author's  purpose 
to  rewrite  the  entire  work  from  the  first  page  to  the 
last,  enlarging  it,  deepening  it,  adorning  it  with  every 
kind  of  spiritual  and  physical  beauty,  and  rounding 
out  a  moral  worthy  of  the  noble  materials.  But  these 
last  transfiguring  touches  to  Aladdin's  Tower  were 
never  to  be  given  ;  and  he  has  departed,  taking  with 
him  his  Wonderful  Lamp.  Nevertheless  there  is  great 
splendor  in  the  structure  as  we  behold  it.  The  char- 
acter of  old  Doctor  Grimshawe,  and  the  picture  of 
his  surroundings,  are  hardly  surpassed  in  vigor  by 
anything  their  author  has  produced ;  and  the  dusky 
vision  of  the  secret  chamber,  which  sends  a  myste- 
rious shiver  through  the  tale,  seems  to  be  unique 
even  in  Hawthorne. 

There  have  been  included  in  this  volume  photo- 
graphic reproductions  of  certain  pages  of  the  original 
manuscript  of  Doctor  Grimshawe,  selected  at  random, 


PREFACE.  xi 

upon  which  those  ingenious  persons  whose  convic- 
tions are  in  advance  of  their  instruction  are  cordially 
invited  to  try  their  teeth ;  for  it  has  been  maintained 
that  Mr.  Hawthorne's  handwriting  was  singularly 
legible.  The  present  writer  possesses  specimens  of 
Mr.  Hawthorne's  chirography  at  various  ages,  from 
boyhood  until  a  day  or  two  before  his  death.  Like 
the  handwriting  of  most  men,  it  was  at  its  best 
between  the  twenty- fifth  and  the  fortieth  years  of 
life  ;  and  in  some  instances  it  is  a  remarkably  beauti- 
ful type  of  penmanship.  But  as  time  went  on  it 
deteriorated,  and,  while  of  course  retaining  its  ele- 
mentary characteristics,  it  became  less  and  less  easy  to 
read,  especially  in  those  writings  which  were  intended 
solely  for  his  own  perusal  As  with  other  men  of 
sensitive  organization,  the  mood  of  the  hour,  a  good 
oj:  a  bad  pen,  a  ready  or  an  obstructed  flow  of  thought, 
would  all  be  reflected  in  the  formation  of  the  written 
letters  and  words.  In  the  manuscript  of  the  fragmen- 
tary sketch  which  has  just  been  published  in  a  mag- 
azine, which  is  written  in  an  ordinary  commonplace- 
book,  with  ruled  pages,  and  in  which  the  author  had 
not  yet  become  possessed  with  the  spirit  of  the  story 
and  characters,  the  handwriting  is  deliberate  and 
clear.  In  the  manuscript  of  "Doctor  Grimshawe's 
Secret,"  on  the  other  hand,  which  was  written  almost 


xii  PREFACE. 

immediately  after  the  other,  but  on  unruled  paper, 
and  when  the  writer's  imagination  was  warm  and 
eager,  the  chirography  is  for  the  most  part  a  compact 
mass  of  minute  cramped  hieroglyphics,  hardly  to  be 
deciphered  save  by  flashes  of  inspiration.  The  mat- 
ter is  not,  in  itself,  of  importance,  and  is  alluded  to 
here  only  as  having  been  brought  forward  in  connec- 
tion with  other  insinuations,  with  the  notice  of  which 
it  seems  unnecessary  to  soil  these  pages.  Indeed, 
were  I  otherwise  disposed,  Doctor  Grimshawe  him- 
self would  take  the  words  out  of  my  mouth ;  his 
speech  is  far  more  poignant  and  eloquent  than  mine. 
In  dismissing  this  episode,  I  will  take  the  liberty  to 
observe  that  it  appears  to  indicate  a  spirit  in  our  age 
less  sceptical  than  is  commonly  supposed,  —  belief  in 
miracles  being  still  possible,  provided  only  the  miracle 
be  a  scandalous  one. 

It  remains  to  tell  how  this  Komance  came  to  be 
published.  It  came  into  my  possession  (in  the  ordi- 
nary course  of  events)  about  eight  years  ago.  I  had 
at  that  time  no  intention  of  publishing  it ;  and  when, 
soon  after,  I  left  England  to  travel  on  the  Continent, 
the  manuscript,  together  with  the  bulk  of  my  library, 
was  packed  and  stored  at  a  London  repository,  and 
was  not  again  seen  by  me  until  last  summer,  when  I 
unpacked  it  in  this  city.  I  then  finished  the  perusal 


PREFACE.  xiii 

of  it,  and,  finding  it  to  be  practically  complete,  I 
re-resolved  to  print  it  in  connection  with  a  biogra- 
phy of  Mr.  Hawthorne  which  I  had  in  preparation. 
But  upon  further  consideration  it  was  decided  to 
publish  the  Romance  separately  ;  and  I  herewith 
present  it  to  the  public,  with  my  best  wishes  for 
their  edification. 

JULIAN    HAWTHORNE. 

NEW  YORK,  November  21,  1832. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER  I 

A  LONG  time  ago,1  in  a  town  with  which  I  used  to 
be  familiarly  acquainted,  there  dwelt  an  elderly  per- 
son of  gi-im  aspect,  known  by  the  name  and  title  of 
Doctor  Grimshawe,2  whose  household  consisted  of  a 
remarkably  pretty  and  vivacious  boy,  and  a  perfect 
rosebud  of  a  girl,  two  or  three  years  younger  than 
he,  and  an  old  maid-of-all-work,  of  strangely  mixed 
breed,  crusty  in  temper  and  wonderfully  sluttish  in 
I  attire.3  It  might  be  partly  owing  to  this  handmaid- 

en's characteristic  lack  of  neatness  (though  prima- 
rily, no  doubt,  to  the  grim  Doctor's  antipathy  to 
broom,  brush,  and  dusting-cloths)  that  the  house  — 
at  least  in  such  portions  of  it  as  any  casual  visitor 
caught  a  glimpse  of —  was  so  overlaid  with  dust, 
that,  in  lack  of  a  visiting  card,  you  might  write  your 
name  with  your  forefinger  upon  the  tables ;  and  so 
hung  with  cobwebs  that  they  assumed  the  appear- 
ance of  dusky  upholstery. 

It  grieves  me  to  add  an  additional  touch  or  two 

to   the  reader's   disagreeable   impression   of  Doctor 

1 


2  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

Grimshawe's  residence,  by  confessing  that  it  stood 
in  a  shabby  by-street,  and  cornered  on  a  graveyard, 
with  which  the  house  communicated  by  a  back  door ; 
so  that  with  a  hop,  skip,  and  jump  from  the  thresh- 
old, across  a  flat  tombstone,  the  two  children 4  were 
in  the  daily  habit  of  using  the  dismal  cemetery  as 
their  playground.  In  their  graver  moods  they  spelled 
out  the  names  and  learned  by  heart  doleful  verses 
on  the  headstones ;  and  in  their  merrier  ones  (which 
were  much  the  more  frequent)  they  chased  butter- 
flies and  gathered  dandelions,  played  hide-and-seek 
among  the  slate  and  marble,  and  tumbled  laughing 
over  the  grassy  mounds  which  were  too  eminent  for 
the  short  legs  to  bestride.  On  the  whole,  they  were 
the  better  for  the  graveyard,  and  its  legitimate  in- 
mates slept  none  the  worse  for  the  two  children's 
gambols  and  shrill  merriment  overhead.  Here  were 
old  brick  tombs  with  curious  sculptures  on  them,  and 
quaint  gravestones,  some  of  which  bore  puffy  little 
cherubs,  and  one  or  two  others  the  effigies  of  eminent 
Puritans,  wrought  out  to  a  button,  a  fold  of  the  ruff, 
and  a  wrinkle  of  the  skull-cap;  and  these  frowned 
upon  the  two  children  as  if  death  had  not  made  them 
a  whit  more  genial  than  they  were  in  life.  But  the 
children  were  of  a  temper  to  be  more  encouraged  by 
the  good-natured  smiles  of  the  puffy  cherubs,  than 
frightened  or  disturbed  by  the  sour  Puritans. 

This  graveyard  (about  which  we  shall  say  not  a 
word  more  than  may  sooner  or  later  be  needful)  was 
the  most  ancient  in  the  town.  The  clay  of  the  origi- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  3 

nal  settlers  had  been  incorporated  with  the  soil ; 
those  stalwart  Englishmen  of  the  Puritan  epoch, 
whose  immediate  ancestors  had  been  planted  forth 
with  succulent  grass  and  daisies  for  the  sustenance 
of  the  parson's  cow,  round  the  low-battle mented 
Norman  church  towers  in  the  villages  of  the  father- 
land, had  here  contributed  their  rich  Saxon  mould  to 
tame  and  Christianize  the  wild  forest  earth  of  the  new 
world.  In  this  point  of  view — as  holding  the  bones 
and  dust  of  the  primeval  ancestor — the  cemetery 
was  more  English  than  anything  else  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  might  probably  have  nourished  English 
oaks  and  English  elms,  and  whatever  else  is  of  Eng- 
lish growth,  without  that  tendency  to  spindle  up- 
wards and  lose  their  sturdy  breadth,  which  is  said 
to  be  the  ordinary  characteristic  both  of  human 
and  vegetable  productions  when  transplanted  hither. 
Here,  at  all  events,  used  to  be  some  specimens  of 
common  English  garden  flowers,  which  could  not  be 
accounted  for,  —  unless,  perhaps,  they  had  sprung 
from  some  English  maiden's  heart,  where  the  intense 
love  of  those  homely  things,  and  regret  of  them  in  the 
foreign  land,  had  conspired  together  to  keep  their 
vivifying  principle,  and  cause  its  growth  after  the 
poor  girl  was  buried.  Be  that  as  it  might,  in  this 
grave  had  been  hidden  from  sight  many  a  broad,  bluff 
visage  of  husbandman,  who  had  been  taught  to 
plough  among  the  hereditary  furrows  that  had  been 
ameliorated  by  the  crumble  of  ages :  much  had  these 
sturdy  laborers  grumbled  at  the  great  roots  that 


4  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

obstructed  their  toil  in  these  fresh  acres.  Here,  too, 
the  sods  had  covered  the  faces  of  men  known  to 
history,  and  reverenced  when  not  a  piece  of  distin- 
guishable dust  remained  of  them ;  personages  whom 
tradition  told  about ;  and  here,  mixed  up  with  suc- 
cessive crops  of  native-born  Americans,  had  been 
ministers,  captains,  matrons,  virgins  good  and  evil, 
tough  and  tender,  turned  up  and  battened  down  by 
the  sexton's  spade,  over  and  over  again;  until  every 
blade  of  grass  had  its  relations  with  the  human 
brotherhood  of  the  old  town.  A  hundred  and  fifty 
years  was  sufficient  to  do  this ;  and  so  much  time,  at 
least,  had  elapsed  since  the  first  hole  was  dug  among 
the  difficult  roots  of  the  forest  trees,  and  the  first  little 
hillock  of  all  these  green  beds  was  piled  up. 

Thus  rippled  and  surged,  with  its  hundreds  of  little 
billows,  the  old  graveyard  about  the  house  which 
cornered  upon  it ;  it  made  the  street  gloomy,  so  that 
people  did  not  altogether  like  to  pass  along  the  high 
wooden  fence  that  shut  it  in  ;  and  the  old  house  itself, 
covering  ground  which  else  had  been  sown  thickly 
with  buried  bodies,  partook  of  its  dreariness,  because 
it  seemed  hardly  possible  that  the  dead  people  should 
not  get  up  out  of  their  graves  and  steal  in  to  warm 
themselves  at  this  convenient  fireside.  But  I  never 
heard  that  any  of  them  did  so ;  nor  were  the  children 
ever  startled  by  spectacles  of  dim  horror  in  the  night- 
time, but  were  as  cheerful  and  fearless  as  if  no  grave 
had  ever  been  dug.  They  were  of  that  class  of  chil- 
dren whose  material  seems  fresh,  not  taken  at  second 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  5 

hand,  full  of  disease,  conceits,  whims,  and  weaknesses, 
that  have  already  served  many  people's  turns,  and 
been  moulded  up,  with  some  little  change  of  combi- 
nation, to  serve  the  turn  of  some  poor  spirit  that 
could  not  get  a  better  case. 

So  far  as  ever  came  to  the  present  writer's  knowl- 
edge, there  was»no  whisper  of  Doctor  Grimshawe's 
house  being  haunted;  a  fact  on  which  both  writer 
and  reader  may  congratulate  themselves,  the  ghostly 
chord  having  been  played  upon  in  these  days  until  it 
has  become  wearisome  and  nauseous  as  the  familiar 
tune  of  a  barrel-organ.  The  house  itself,  moreover, 
except  for  the  convenience  of  its  position  close  to  the 
seldom-disturbed  cemetery,  was  hardly  worthy  to  be 
haunted.  As  I  remember  it,  (and  for  aught  I  know 
it  still  exists  in  the  same  guise,)  it  did  not  appear  to 
be  an  ancient  structure,  nor  one  that  would  ever  have 
been  the  abode  of  a  very  wealthy  or  prominent  fam- 
ily; —  a  three-story  wooden  house,  perhaps  a  century 
old,  low-studded,  with  a  square  front,  standing  right 
upon  the  street,  and  a  small  enclosed  porch,  contain- 
ing the  main  entrance,  affording  a  glimpse  up  and 
down  the  street  through  an  oval  window  on  each 
side,  its  characteristic  was  decent  respectability,  not 
sinking  below  the  boundary  of  the  genteel.  It  has 
often  perplexed  my  mind  to  conjecture  what  sort  of 
man  he  could  have  been  who,  having  the  means  to 
build  a  pretty,  spacious,  and  comfortable  residence, 
should  have  chosen  to  lay  its  foundation  on  the  brink 
of  so  many  graves;  each  tenant  of  these  narrow 


6  DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

houses  crying  out,  as  it  were,  against  the  absurdity 
of  bestowing  much  time  or  pains  in  preparing  any 
earthly  tabernacle  save  such  as  theirs.  But  deceased 
people  see  matters  from  an  erroneous  —  at  least  too 
exclusive  —  point  of  view ;  a  comfortable  grave  is  an 
excellent  possession  for  those  who  need  it,  but  a  com- 
fortable house  has  likewise  its  merite  and  temporary 
advantages.5 

The  founder  of  the  house  in  question  seemed  sensi- 
ble of  this  truth,  and  had  therefore  been  careful  to  lay 
out  a  sufficient  number  of  rooms  and  chambers,  low, 
ill-lighted,  ugly,  but  not  unsusceptible  of  warmth  and 
comfort ;  the  sunniest  and  cheerfulest  of  which  were 
on  the  side  that  looked  into  the  graveyard.  Of  these, 
the  one  most  spacious  and  convenient  had  been  se- 
lected by  Doctor  Grimshawe  as  a  study,  and  fitted 
up  with  bookshelves,  and  various  machines  and  con- 
trivances, electrical,  chemical,  and  distillatory,  where- 
with he  might  pursue  such  researches  as  were  wont 
to  engage  his  attention.  The  great  result  of  the  grim 
Doctor's  labors,  so  far  as  known  to  the  public,  was  a 
certain  preparation  or  extract  of  cobwebs,  which,  out 
of  a  great  abundance  of  material,  he  was  able  to  pro- 
duce in  any  desirable  quantity,  and  by  the  adminis- 
tration of  which  he  professed  to  cure  diseases  of  the 
inflammatory  class,  and  to  work  very  wonderful  effects 
upon  the  human  system.  It  is  a  great  pity,  for  the 
good  of  mankind  and  the  advantage  of  his  own 
fortunes,  that  he  did  not  put  forth  this  medicine  in 
pill-boxes  or  bottles,  and  then,  as  it  were,  by  some 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.  7 

captivating  title,  inveigle  the  public  into  his  spider's 
web,  and  suck  out  its  gold  substance,  and  himself  wax 
fat  as  he  sat  in  the  central  intricacy. 

But  grim  Doctor  Grimshawe,  though  his  aim  in 
life  might  be  no  very  exalted  one,  seemed  singularly 
destitute  of  the  impulse  to  better  his  fortunes  by  the 
exercise  of  his  wits:  it  might  even  have  been  sup- 
posed, indeed,  that  he  had  a  conscientious  principle 
or  religious  scruple  —  only,  he  was  by  no  means  a 
religious  man  —  against  reaping  profit  from  this  par- 
ticular nostrum  which  he  was  said  to  have  invented. 
He  never  sold  it ;  never  prescribed  it,  unless  in 
cases  selected  on  some  principle  that  nobody  could 
detect  or  explain.  The  grim  Doctor,  it  must  be  ob- 
served, was  not  generally  acknowledged  by  the  pro- 
fession, with  whom,  in  truth,  he  had  never  claimed  a 
fellowship ;  nor  had  he  ever  assumed  of  his  own 
accord  the  medical  title  by  which  the  public  chose 
to  know  him.  His  professional  practice  seemed,  in 
a  sort,  forced  upon  him;  it  grew  pretty  extensive, 
partly  because  it  was  understood  to  be  a  matter 
of  favor  and  difficulty,  dependent  on  a  capricious 
will,  to  obtain  his  services  at  all.  There  was  un- 
questionably an  odor  of  quackery  about  him ;  but 
by  no  means  of  an  ordinary  kind.  A  sort  of  mys- 
tery—  yet  which,  perhaps,  need  not  have  been  a 
mystery,  had  any  one  thought  it  worth  while  to  make 
systematic  inquiry  in  reference  to  his  previous  life, 
his  education,  even  his  native  land  —  assisted  the 
impression  which  his  peculiarities  were  calculated 


8  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

to  make.  He  was  evidently  not  a  New-Englander, 
nor  a  native  of  any  part  of  these  Western  shores. 
His  speech  was  apt  to  be  oddly  and  uncouthly 
idiomatic,  and  even  when  classical  in  its  form  was 
emitted  with  a  strange,  rough  depth  of  utterance, 
that  came  from  recesses  of  the  lungs  which  we 
Yankees  seldom  put  to  any  use.  In  person,  he 
did  not  look  like  one  of  us ;  a  broad,  rather  short 
personage,  with  a  projecting  forehead,  a  red,  irreg- 
ular face,  and  a  squab  nose ;  eyes  that  looked  dull 
enough  in  their  ordinary  state,  but  had  a  faculty,  in 
conjunction  with  the  other  features,  which  those  who 
had  ever  seen  it  described  as  especially  ugly  and  awful. 
As  regarded  dress,  Doctor  Grimshawe  had  a  rough 
and  careless  exterior,  and  altogether  a  shaggy  kind  of 
aspect,  the  effect  of  which  was  much  increased  by  a 
reddish  beard,  which,  contrary  to  the  usual  custom  of 
the  day,  he  allowed  to  grow  profusely ;  and  the  wiry 
perversity  of  which  seemed  to  know  as  little  of  the 
comb  as  of  the  razor. 

We  began  with  calling  the  grim  Doctor  an  elderly 
personage ;  but  in  so  doing  we  looked  at  him  through 
the  eyes  of  the  two  children,  who  were  his  intimates, 
and  who  had  not  learnt  to  decipher  the  purport  and 
value  of  his  wrinkles  and  furrows  and  corrugations, 
whether  as  indicating  age,  or  a  different  kind  of  wear 
and  tear.  Possibly  —  he  seemed  so  aggressive  and 
had  such  latent  heat  and  force  to  throw  out  when 
occasion  called  —  he  might  scarcely  have  seemed 
middle-aged ;  though  here  again  we  hesitate,  finding 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  9 

him  so  stiffened  in  his  own  way,  so  little  fluid,  so 
encrusted  with  passions  and  humors,  that  he  must 
have  left  his  youth  very  far  behind  him ;  if  indeed 
he  ever  had  any. 

The  patients,  or  whatever  other  visitors  were  ever 
admitted  into  the  Doctor's  study,  carried  abroad  strange 
accounts  of  the  squalor  of  dust  and  cobwebs  in  which 
the  learned  and  scientific  person  lived ;  and  the  dust, 
they  averred,  was  all  the  more  disagreeable,  because 
it  could  not  well  be  other  than  dead  men's  almost  in- 
tangible atoms,  resurrected  from  the  adjoining  grave- 
yard. As  for  the  cobwebs,  they  were  no  signs  of 
housewifely  neglect  on  the  part  of  crusty  Hannah, 
the  handmaiden  ;  but  the  Doctor's  scientific  material, 
carefully  encouraged  and  preserved,  each  filmy  thread 
more  valuable  to  him  than  so  much  golden  wire.  Of 
all  barbarous  haunts  in  Christendom  or  elsewhere,  this 
study  was  the  one  most  overrun  with  spiders.  They 
dangled  from  the  ceiling,  crept  upon  the  tables,  lurked 
in  the  corners,  and  wove  the  intricacy  of  their  webs 
wherever  they  could  hitch  the  end  from  point  to 
point  across  the  window-panes,  and  even  across  the 
upper  part  of  the  doorway,  and  in  the  chimney-place. 
It  seemed  impossible  to  move  without  breaking  some 
of  these  mystic  threads.  Spiders  crept  familiarly 
towards  you  and  walked  leisurely  across  your  hands  : 
these  were  their  precincts,  and  you  only  an  intruder. 
If  you  had  none  about  your  person,  yet  you  had  an 
odious  sense  of  one  crawling  up  your  spine,  or  spin- 
ning cobwebs  in  your  brain,  —  so  pervaded  was  the 


10  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

atmosphere  of  the  place  with  spider-life.  What  they 
fed  upon  (for  all  the  flies  for  miles  about  would  not 
have  sufficed  them)  was  a  secret  known  only  to 
the  Doctor.  Whence  they  came  was  another  riddle  ; 
though,  from  certain  inquiries  and  transactions  of 
Doctor  Grimshawe's  with  some  of  the  shipmasters 
of  the  port,  who  followed  the  East  and  West  In- 
dian, the  African  and  the  South  American  trade,  it 
was  supposed  that  this  odd  philosopher  was  in  the 
habit  of  importing  choice  monstrosities  in  the  spider 
kind  from  all  those  tropic  regions.6 

All  the  above  description,  exaggerated  as  it  may 
seem,  is  merely  preliminary  to  the  introduction  of  one 
single  enormous  spider,  the  biggest  and  ugliest  ever 
seen,  the  pride  of  the  grim  Doctor's  heart,  his  treasure, 
his  glory,  the  pearl  of  his  soul,  and,  as  many  people 
said,  the  demon  to  whom  he  had  sold  his  salvation, 
on  condition  of  possessing  the  web  of  the  foul  creature 
for  a  certain  number  of  years.  The  grim  Doctor,  ac- 
cording to  this  theory,  was  but  a  great  fly  which  this 
spider  had  subtly  entangled  in  his  web.  But,  in 
truth,  naturalists  are  acquainted  with  this  spider, 
though  it  is  a  rare  one ;  the  British  Museum  has  a 
specimen,  and,  doubtless,  so  have  many  other  scien- 
tific institutions.  It  is  found  in  South  America  ;  its 
most  hideous  spread  of  legs  covers  a  space  nearly  as 
large  as  a  dinner-plate,  and  radiates  from  a  body  as 
big  as  a  door-knob,  which  one  conceives  to  be  an 
agglomeration  of  sucked-up  poison  which  the  creature 
treasures  through  life ;  probably  to  expend  it  all,  and 


I 

DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  11 

life  itself,  on  some  worthy  foe.  Its  colors,  variegated 
in  a  sort  of  ugly  and  inauspicious  splendor,  were  dis- 
tributed over  its  vast  bulb  in  great  spots,  some  of 
which  glistened  like  gems.  It  was  a  horror  to  think 
of  this  thing  living ;  still  more  horrible  to  think  of 
the  foul  catastrophe,  the  crushed-out  and  wasted  poi- 
son, that  would  follow  the  casual  setting  foot  upon  it. 
No  doubt,  the  lapse  of  time  since  the  Doctor  and 
his  spider  lived  has  already  been  sufficient  to  cause  a 
traditionary  wonderment  to  gather  over  them  both; 
and,  especially,  this  image  of  the  spider  dangles  down 
to  us  from  the  dusky  ceiling  of  the  Past,  swollen 
into  somewhat  uglier  and  huger  monstrosity  than  he 
actually  possessed.  Nevertheless,  the  creature  had  a 
real  existence,  and  has  left  kindred  like  himself ;  but 
as  for  the  Doctor,  nothing  could  exceed  the  value  which 
he  seemed  to  put  upon  him,  the  sacrifices  he  made  for 
the  creature's  convenience,  or  the  readiness  with  which 
he  adapted  his  whole  mode  of  life,  apparently,  so  that 
the  spider  might  enjoy  the  conditions  best  suited  to 
his  tastes,  habits,  and  health.  And  yet  there  were 
sometimes  tokens  that  made  people  imagine  that  he 
hated  the  infernal  creature  as  much  as  everybody  else 
who  caught  a  glimpse  of  him.7 


12  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTEE   II. 

CONSIDERING  that  Doctor  Grimshawe,  when  we  first 
look  upon  him,  had  dwelt  only  a  few  years  in  the 
house  by  the  graveyard,  it  is  wonderful  what  an  ap- 
pearance he,  and  his  furniture,  and  his  cobwebs,  and 
their  unweariable  spinners,  and  crusty  old  Hannah, 
all  had  of  having  permanently  attached  themselves  to 
the  locality.  For  a  century,  at  least;  it  might  be  fan- 
cied that  the  study  in  particular  had  existed  just  as 
it  was  now ;  with  those  dusky  festoons  of  spider-silk 
hanging  along  the  walls,  those  book-cases  with  vol- 
umes turning  their  parchment  or  black-leather  backs 
upon  you,  those  machines  and  engines,  that  table,  and 
at  it  the  Doctor,  in  a  very  faded  and  shabby  dressing- 
gown,  smoking  a  long  clay  pipe,  the  powerful  fumes 
of  which  dwelt  continually  in  his  reddish  and  grisly 
beard,  and  made  him  fragrant  wherever  he  went. 
This  sense  of  fixedness  —  stony  intractability — seems 
to  belong  to  people  who,  instead  of  hope,  which  exalts 
everything  into  an  airy,  gaseous  exhilaration,  have  a 
fixed  and  dogged  purpose,  around  which  everything 
congeals  and  crystallizes.1  Even  the  sunshine,  dim 
through  the  dustiness  of  the  two  casements  that  looked 
upon  the  graveyard,  and  the  smoke,  as  it  came  warm 
out  of  Doctor  Grimshawe's  mouth,  seemed  already 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.  13 

stale.  But  if  the  two  children,  or  either  of  them, 
happened  to  be  in  the  study,  —  if  they  ran  to  open 
the  door  at  the  knock,  if  they  caine  scampering  and 
peeped  down  over  the  banisters,  —  the  sordid  and 
rusty  gloom  was  apt  to  vanish  quite  away.  The  sun- 
beam itself  looked  like  a  golden  rule,  that  had  been 
flung  down  long  ago,  and  had  lain  there  till  it  was 
dusty  and  tarnished.  They  were  cheery  little  imps, 
who  sucked  up  fragrance  and  pleasantness  out  of  their 
surroundings,  dreary  as  these  looked ;  even  as  a  flower 
can  find  its  proper  perfume  in  any  soil  where  its  seed 
happens  to  fall.  The  great  spider,  hanging  by  his 
cordage  over  the  Doctor's  head,  and  waving  slowly, 
like  a  pendulum,  in  a  blast  from  the  crack  of  the  door, 
must  have  made  millions  and  millions  of  precisely 
such  vibrations  as  these ;  but  the  children  were  new, 
and  made  over  every  day,  with  yesterday's  weariness 
left  out. 

The  little  girl,  however,  was  the  merrier  of  the 
two.  It  was  quite  unintelligible,  in  view  of  the  little 
care  that  crusty  Hannah  took  of  her,  and,  moreover, 
since  she  was  none  of  your  prim,  fastidious  children, 
how  daintily  she  kept  herself  amid  all  this  dust ;  how 
the  spider's  webs  never  clung  to  her,  and  how,  when 
—  without  being  solicited — she  clambered  into  the 
Doctor's  arms  and  kissed  him,  she  bore  away  no  smoky 
reminiscences  of  the  pipe  that  he  kissed  continually. 
She  had  a  free,  mellow,  natural  laughter,  that  seemed 
the  ripened  fruit  of  the  smile  that  was  generally  on 
her  little  face,  to  be  shaken  off  and  scattered  abroad 


14  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

by  any  breeze  that  came  along.  Little  Elsie  made 
playthings  of  everything,  even  of  the  grim  Doctor, 
though  against  his  will,  and  though,  moreover,  there 
were  tokens  now  and  then  that  the  sight  of  this  bright 
little  creature  was  not  a  pleasure  to  him,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  a  positive  pain ;  a  pain,  nevertheless,  indi- 
cating a  profound  interest,  hardly  less  deep  than 
though  Elsie  had  been  his  daughter. 

Elsie  did  not  play  with  the  great  spider,  but  she 
moved  among  the  whole  brood  of  spiders  as  if  she  saw 
them  not,  and,  being  endowed  with  other  senses  than 
those  allied  to  these  things,  might  coexist  with  them 
and  not  be  sensible  of  their  presence.  Yet  the  child, 
I  suppose,  had  her  crying  fits,  and  her  pouting  fits, 
and  naughtiness  enough  to  entitle  her  to  live  on 
earth;  at  least  crusty  Hannah  often  said  so,  and  often 
made  grievous  complaint  of  disobedience,  mischief, 
or  breakage,  attributable  to  little  Elsie ;  to  which  the 
grim  Doctor  seldom  responded  by  anything  more  in- 
telligible than  a  puff  of  tobacco-smoke,  and,  some- 
times, an  imprecation ;  which,  however,  hit  crusty 
Hannah  instead  of  the  child.  Where  the  child  got  the 
tenderness  that  a  child  needs  to  live  upon,  is  a  mys- 
tery to  me ;  perhaps  from  some  aged  or  dead  mother, 
or  in  her  dreams ;  perhaps  from  some  small  modicum 
of  it,  such  as  boys  have,  from  the  little  boy  ;  or  perhaps 
it  was  from  a  Persian  kitten,  which  had  grown  to  be  a 
cat  in  her  arms,  and  slept  in  her  little  bed,  and  now 
assumed  grave  and  protective  airs  towards  her  former 
playmate.2 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  15 

The  boy,3  as  we  have  said,  was  two  or  three  years 
Elsie's  elder,  and  might  now  be  about  six  years  old. 
He  was  a  healthy  and  cheerful  child,  yet  of  a  graver 
mood  than  the  little  girl,  appearing  to  lay  a  more 
forcible  grasp  on  the  circumstances  about  him,  and 
to  tread  with  a  heavier  footstep  on  the  solid  earth ; 
yet  perhaps  not  more  so  than  was  the  necessary  dif- 
ference between  a  man-blossom,  dimly  conscious  of 
coming  things,  and  a  mere  baby,  with  whom  there 
was  neither  past  nor  future.  Ned,  as  he  was  named, 
was  subject  very  early  to  fits  of  musing,  the  subject 
of  which  —  if  they  had  any  definite  subject,  or  were 
more  than  vague  reveries  —  it  was  impossible  to 
guess.  They  were  of  those  states  of  mind,  probably, 
which  are  beyond  the  sphere  of  human  language,  and 
would  necessarily  lose  their  essence  in  the  attempt 
to  communicate  or  record  them.  The  little  girl,  per- 
haps, had  some  mode  of  sympathy  with  these  unut- 
tered  thoughts  or  reveries,  which  grown  people  had 
ceased  to  have ;  at  all  events,  she  early  learned  to 
respect  them,  and,  at  other  times  as  free  and  playful 
as  her  Persian  kitten,  she  never  in  such  circumstances 
ventured  on  any  greater  freedom  than  to  sit  down 
quietly  beside  him,  and  endeavor  to  look  as  thought- 
ful as  the  boy  himself. 

Once,  slowly  emerging  from  one  of  these  waking 
reveries,  little  Ned  gazed  about  him,  and  saw  Elsie 
sitting  with  this  pretty  pretence  of  thoughtfulness 
and  dreaminess  in  her  little  chair,  close  beside  him ; 
now  and  then  peeping  under  her  eyelashes  to  note 


16  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

what  changes  might  come  over  his  face.  After  look- 
ing at  her  a  moment  or  two,  he  quietly  took  her 
willing  and  warm  little  hand  in  his  own,  and  led  her 
up  to  the  Doctor. 

The  group,  methinks,  must  have  been  a  picturesque 
one,  made  up  as  it  was  of  several  apparently  discord- 
ant elements,  each  of  which  happened  to  be  so  com- 
bined as  to  make  a  more  effective  whole.  The 
beautiful  grave  boy,  with  a  little  sword  by  his  side 
and  a  feather  in  his  hat,  of  a  brown  complexion,  slen- 
der, with  his  white  brow  and  dark,  thoughtful  eyes, 
so  earnest  upon  some  mysterious  theme ;  the  prettier 
little  girl,  a  blonde,  round,  rosy,  so  truly  sympathetic 
with  her  companion's  mood,  yet  unconsciously  turning 
all  to  sport  by  her  attempt  to  assume  one  similar;  — 
these  two  standing  at  the  grim  Doctor's  footstool ;  he 
meanwhile,  black,  wild-bearded,  heavy-browed,  red- 
eyed,  wrapped  in  his  faded  dressing-go wn,  puffing  out 
volumes  of  vapor  from  his  long  pipe,  and  making,  just 
at  that  instant,  application  to  a  tumbler,  which,  we 
regret  to  say,  was  generally  at  his  elbow,  with  some 
dark- colored  potation  in  it  that  required  to  be  fre- 
quently replenished  from  a  neighboring  black  bottle. 
Half,  at  least,  of  the  fluids  in  the  grim  Doctor's  system 
must  have  been  derived  from  that  same  black  bottle,  so 
constant  was  his  familiarity  with  its  contents ;  and  yet 
his  eyes  were  never  redder  at  one  time  than  another, 
nor  his  utterance  thicker,  nor  his  mood  perceptibly 
the  brighter  or  the  duller  for  all  his  conviviality.  It 
is  true,  when/  once,  the  bottle  happened  to  be  empty 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  17 

for  a  whole  day  together,  Doctor  Grimshawe  was 
observed  by  crusty  Hannah  and  by  the  children  to 
be  considerably  fiercer  than  usual :  so  that  probably, 
by  some  maladjustment  of  consequences,  his  intem- 
perance was  only  to  be  found  in  refraining  from 
brandy. 

Nor  must  we  forget  —  in  attempting  to  conceive 
the  effect  of  these  two  beautiful  children  in  such  a 
sombre  room,  looking  on  the  graveyard,  and  contrasted 
with  the  grim  Doctor's  aspect  of  heavy  and  smoulder- 
ing fierceness  —  that  over  his  head,  at  this  very  mo- 
ment, dangled  the  portentous  spider,  who  seemed  to 
have  come  down  from  his  web  aloft  for  the  purpose 
of  hearing  what  the  two  young  people  could  have  to 
say  to  his  patron,  and  what  reference  it  might  have  to 
certain  mysterious  documents  which  the  Doctor  kept 
locked  up  in  a  secret  cupboard  behind  the  door. 

"  Grim  Doctor,"  said  Ned,  after  looking  up  into  the 
Doctor's  face,  as  a  sensitive  child  inevitably  does,  to 
see  whether  the  occasion  was  favorable,  yet  deter- 
mined to  proceed  with  his  purpose  whether  so  or 
not,  — "  Grim  Doctor,  I  want  you  to  answer  me  a 
question." 

"Here's  to  jour  good  health,  Ned!"  quoth  the 
Doctor,  eying  the  pair  intently,  as  he  often  did, 
when  they  were  unconscious.  "  So  you  want  to  ask 
me  a  question  ?  As  many  as  you  please,  my  fine 
fellow ;  and  I  shall  answer  as  many,  and  as  much, 
and  as  truly,  as  may  please  myself ! " 

"  Ah,  grim  Doctor ! "  said  the  little  girl,  now  letting 
2 


18  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

go  of  Ned's  hand,  and  climbing  upon  the  Doctor's 
knee,  "  'ou  shall  answer  as  many  as  Ned  please  to  ask, 
because  to  please  him  and  me  ! " 

"  Well,  child,"  said  Doctor  Griinshawe,  "  little  Ned 
will  have  his  rights  at  least,  at  my  hands,  if  not  other 
people's  rights  likewise  ;  and,  if  it  be  right,  I  shall 
answer  his  question.  Only,  let  him  ask  it  at  once; 
for  I  want  to  be  busy  thinking  about  something 
else." 

"Then,  Doctor  Grim,"  said  little  Ned,  "tell  me,  in 
the  first  place,  where  I  came  from,  and  how  you  came 
to  have  me  ? " 

The  Doctor  looked  at  the  little  man,  so  seriously 
and  earnestly  putting  this  demand,  with  a  perplexed, 
and  at  first  it  might  almost  seem  a  startled  aspect. 

"  That  is  a  question,  indeed,  my  friend  Ned ! " 
ejaculated  he,  putting  forth  a  whiff  of  smoke  and  im- 
bibing a  nip  from  his  tumbler  before  he  spoke ;  and 
perhaps  framing  his  answer,  as  many  thoughtful  and 
secret  people  do,  in  such  a  way  as  to  let  out  his  secret 
mood  to  the  child,  because  knowing  he  could  not 
understand  it:  "Whence  did  you  come?  Whence 
did  any  of  us  come  ?  Out  of  the  darkness  and  mys- 
tery ;  out  of  nothingness ;  out  of  a  kingdom  of  shad- 
ows ;  out  of  dust,  clay,  mud,  I  think,  and  to  return  to 
it  again.  Out  of  a  former  state  of  being,  whence  we 
have  brought  a  good  many  shadowy  revelations,  pur- 
porting that  it  was  no  very  pleasant  one.  Out  of  a 
former  life,  of  which  the  present  one  is  the  hell !  — 
And  why  are  you  come  ?  Faith,  Ned,  he  must  be  a 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          19 

wiser  man  than  Doctor  Grim  who  can  tell  why  you 
or  any  other  mortal  came  hither ;  only  one  thing  I 
am  well  aware  of,  —  it  was  not  to  be  happy.  To  toil 
and  moil  and  hope  and  fear ;  and  to  love  in  a  shad- 
owy, doubtful  sort  of  way,  and  to  hate  in  bitter  ear- 
nest, —  that  is  what  you  came  for ! " 

"  Ah,  Doctor  Grim  !  this  is  very  naughty,"  said  lit- 
tle Elsie.  "  You  are  making  fun  of  little  Ned,  when 
he  is  in  earnest." 

"  Eun ! "  quoth  Doctor  Grim,  bursting  into  a  laugh 
peculiar  to  him,  very  loud  and  obstreperous.  "  I  am 
glad  you  find  it  so,  my  little  woman.  Well,  and  so 
you  bid  me  tell  absolutely  where  he  came  from  ? " 

Elsie  nodded  her  bright  little  head. 

"  And  you,  friend  Ned,  insist  upon  knowing  ? " 

"  That  I  do,  Doctor  Grim ! "  answered  Ned.  His 
white,  childish  brow  had  gathered  into  a  frown,  such 
was  the  earnestness  of  his  determination;  and  he 
stamped  his  foot  on  the  floor,  as  if  ready  to  follow  up 
his  demand  by  an  appeal  to  the  little  tin  sword  which 
hung  by  his  side.  The  Doctor  looked  at  him  with  a 
kind  of  smile,  —  not  a  very  pleasant  one ;  for  it  was 
an  unamiable  characteristic  of  his  temper  that  a  dis- 
play of  spirit,  even  in  a  child,  was  apt  to  arouse  his 
immense  cornbativeness,  and  make  him  aim  a  blow 
without  much  consideration  how  heavily  it  might  fall, 
or  on  how  unequal  an  antagonist. 

"  If  you  insist  upon  an  answer,  Master  Ned,  you 
shall  have  it,"  replied  he.  "  You  were  taken  by  me, 
boy,  a  foundling  from  an  almshouse ;  and  if  ever 


20  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

hereafter  you  desire  to  know  your  kindred,  you  must 
take  your  chance  of  the  first  man  you  meet.  He  is 
as  likely  to  be  your  father  as  another ! " 

The  child's  eyes  flashed,  and  his  brow  grew  as  red 
as  fire.  It  was  but  a  momentary  fierceness  ;  the  next 
instant  he  clasped  his  hands  over  his  face,  and  wept 
in  a  violent  convulsion  of  grief  and  shame.  Little 
Elsie  clasped  her  arms  about  him,  kissing  his  brow 
and  chin,  which  were  all  that  her  lips  could  touch, 
under  his  clasped  hands ;  but  Ned  turned  away  un- 
comforted,  and  was  blindly  making  his  way  towards 
the  door. 

"  Ned,  my  little  fellow,  come  back ! "  said  Doctor 
Grim,  who  had  very  attentively  watched  the  cruel 
effect  of  his  communication. 

As  the  boy  did  not  reply,  and  was  still  tending  to- 
wards the  door,  the  grim  Doctor  vouchsafed  to  lay 
aside  his  pipe,  get  up  from  his  arm-chair  (a  thing  he 
seldom  did  between  supper  and  bedtime),  and  shuffle 
after  the  two  children  in  his  slippers."  He  caught 
them  on  the  threshold,  brought  little  Ned  back  by 
main  force,  —  for  he  was  a  rough  man  even  in  his 
tenderness,  —  and,  sitting  down  again  and  taking  him 
on  his  knee,  pulled  away  his  hands  from  before  his 
face.  Never  was  a  more  pitiful  sight  than  that  pale 
countenance,  so  infantile  still,  yet  looking  old  and 
experienced  already,  with  a  sense  of  disgrace,  with  a 
feeling  of  loneliness ;  so  beautiful,  nevertheless,  that 
it  seemed  to  possess  all  the  characteristics  which  fine 
hereditary  traits  and  culture,  or  many  forefathers, 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  21 

could  do  in  refining  a  human  stock.  And  this  was  a 
nameless  weed,  sprouting  from  some  chance  seed  by 
the  dusty  wayside  ! 

"  Ned,  my  dear  old  boy,"  said  Doctor  Grim,  —  and 
he  kissed  that  pale,  tearful  face,  • —  the  first  and  last 
time,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  that  he  was  ever  be- 
trayed into  that  tenderness ;  "  forget  what  I  have 
said !  Yes,  remember,  if  you  like,  that  you  came 
from  an  almshouse ;  but  remember,  too,  —  what  your 
friend  Doctor  Grim  is  ready  to  affirm  and  make  oath 
of,  —  that  he  can  trace  your  kindred  and  race  through 
that  sordid  experience,  and  back,  back,  for  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years,  into  an  old  English  line.  Come,  little 
Ned,  and  look  at  this  picture." 

He  led  the  boy  by  the  hand  to  a  corner  of  the 
room,  where  hung  upon  the  wall  a  portrait  which 
Ned  had  often  looked  at.  It  seemed  an  old  picture ; 
but  the  Doctor  had  had  it  cleaned  and  varnished,  so 
that  it  looked  dim  and  dark,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  be 
the  representation  of  a  man  of  no  mark ;  not  at  least 
of  such  mark  as  would  naturally  leave  his  features  to 
be  transmitted  for  the  interest  of  another  generation. 
For  he  was  clad  in  a  mean  dress  of  old  fashion,  —  a 
leather  jerkin  it  appeared  to  be,  —  and  round  his  neck, 
moreover,  was  a  noose  of  rope,  as  if  he  might  have 
been  on  the  point  of  being  hanged.  But  the  face  of 
the  portrait,  nevertheless,  was  beautiful,  noble,  though 
sad ;  with  a  great  development  of  sensibility,  a  look 
of  suffering  and  endurance  amounting  to  triumph, — 
a  peace  through  all. 


22          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  Look  at  this,"  continued  the  Doctor,  "  if  you  must 
go  on  dreaming  about  your  race.  Dream  that  you 
are  of  the  blood  of  this  being ;  for,  mean  as  his  station 
looks,  he  comes  of  an  ancient  and  noble  race,  and  was 
the  noblest  of  them  all !  Let  me  alone,  Ned,  and  I 
shall  spin  out  the  web  that  shall  link  you  to  that 
man.  The  grim  Doctor  can  do  it!" 

The  grim  Doctor's  face  looked  fierce  with  the  ear- 
nestness with  which  he  said  these  words.  You  would 
have  said  that  he  was  taking  an  oath  to  overthrow 
and  annihilate  a  race,  rather  than  to  build  one  up  by 
bringing  forward  the  infant  heir  out  of  obscurity,  and 
making  plain  the  links  —  the  filaments  —  which  ce- 
mented this  feeble  childish  life,  in  a  far  country,  with 
the  great  tide  of  a  noble  life,  which  had  come  down 
like  a  chain  from  antiquity,  in  old  England. 

Having  said  the  words,  however,  the  grim  Doctor 
appeared  ashamed  both  of  the  heat  and  of  the  tender- 
ness into  which  he  had  been  betrayed ;  for  rude  and 
rough  as  his  nature  was,  there  was  a  kind  of  decorum 
in  it,  too,  that  kept  him  within  limits  of  his  own.  So 
he  went  back  to  his  chair,  his  pipe,  and  his  tumbler, 
and  was  gruffer  and  more  taciturn  than  ever  for  the 
rest  of  the  evening.  And  after  the  children  went  to 
bed,  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  looked  up  at  the 
vast  tropic  spider,  who  was  particularly  busy  in  add- 
ing to  the  intricacies  of  his  web ;  until  he  fell  asleep 
with  his  eyes  fixed  in  that  direction,  and  the  extin- 
guished pipe  in  one  hand  and  the  empty  tumbler  in 
the  other. 


DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  23 


CHAPTER  III 

DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE,  after  the  foregone  scene, 
began  a  practice  of  conversing  more  with  the  chil- 
dren than  formerly ;  directing  his  discourse  chiefly  to 
Ned,  although  Elsie's  vivacity  and  more  outspoken 
and  demonstrative  character  made  her  take  quite  as 
large  a  share  in  the  conversation  as  he. 

The  Doctor's  communications  referred  chiefly  to  a 
village,  or  neighborhood,  or  locality  in  England,  which 
he  chose  to  call  Newnham ;  although  he  told  the 
children  that  this  was  not  the  real  name,  which,  for 
reasons  best  known  to  himself,  he  wished  to  conceal. 
Whatever  the  name  were,  he  seemed  to  know  the 
place  so  intimately,  that  the  children,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  adopted  the  conclusion  that  it  was  his  birth- 
place, and  the  spot  where  he  had  spent  his  schoolboy 
days,  and  had  lived  until  some  inscrutable  reason 
had  impelled  him  to  quit  its  ivy-grown  antiquity, 
and  all  the  aged  beauty  and  strength  that  he  spoke 
of,  and  to  cross  the  sea. 

He  used  to  tell  of  an  old  church,  far  unlike  the 
brick  and  pine-built  meeting-houses  with  which  the 
children  were  familiar  ;  a  church,  the  stones  of  which 
were  laid,  every  one  of  them,  before  the  world  knew 
of  the  country  in  which  he  was  then  speaking :  and 


24          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

how  it  had  a  spire,  the  lower  part  of  which  was 
mantled  with  ivy,  and  up  which,  towards  its  very 
spire,  the  ivy  was  still  creeping ;  and  how  there  was 
a  tradition,  that,  if  the  ivy  ever  reached  the  top,  the 
spire  would  fall  upon  the  roof  of  the  old  gray  church, 
and  crush  it  all  down  among  its  surrounding  tomb- 
stones.1 And  so,  as  this  misfortune  would  be  so  heavy 
a  one,  there  seemed  to  be  a  miracle  wrought  from 
year  to  year,  by  which  the  ivy,  though  always  flourish- 
ing, could  never  grow  beyond  a  certain  point ;  so  that 
the  spire  and  church  had  stood  unharmed  for  thirty 
years ;  though  the  wise  old  people  were  constantly 
foretelling  that  the  passing  year  must  be  the  very 
last  one  that  it  could  stand. 

He  told,  too,  of  a  place  that  made  little  Ned  blush 
and  cast  down  his  eyes  to  hide  the  tears  of  anger 
and  shame  at  he  knew  not  what,  which  would  irre- 
sistibly spring  into  them;  for  it  reminded  him  of 
the  almshouse  where,  as  the  cruel  Doctor  said,  Ned 
himself  had  had  his  earliest  home.  And  yet,  after  all, 
it  had  scarcely  a  feature  of  resemblance ;  and  there 
was  this  great  point  of  difference,  —  that  whereas, 
in  Ned's  wretched  abode  (a  large,  unsightly  brick 
house),  there  were  many  wretched  infants  like  him- 
self, as  well  as  helpless  people  of  all  ages,  widows, 
decayed  drunkards,  people  of  feeble  wits,  and  all  kinds 
of  imbecility ;  it  being  a  haven  for  those  who  could 
not  contend  in  the  hard,  eager,  pitiless  struggle  of 
life ;  in  the  place  the  Doctor  spoke  of,  a  noble,  Gothic, 
mossy  structure,  there  were  none  but  aged  men,  who 


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DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.  25 

had  drifted  into  this  quiet  harbor  to  end  their  days 
in  a  sort  of  humble  yet  stately  ease  and  decorous 
abundance.  And  this  shelter,  the  grim  Doctor  said, 
was  the  gift  of  a  man  who  had  died  ages  ago ;  and 
having  been  a  great  sinner  in  his  lifetime,  and  hav- 
ing drawn  lauds,  manors,  and  a  great  mass  of  wealth 
into  his  clutches,  by  violent  and  unfair  means,  had 
thought  to  get  his  pardon  by  founding  this  Hospital, 
as  it  was  called,  in  which  thirteen  old  men  should 
always  reside ;  and  he  hoped  that  they  would  spend 
ther  Hime  in  praying  for  the  welfare  of  his  soul.2 

Said  little  Elsie,  "  I  am  glad  he  did  it,  and  I  hope 
the  poor  old  men  never  forgot  to  pray  for  him,  and 
that  it  did  good  to  the  poor  wicked  man's  soul." 

"Well,  child,"  said  Doctor  Grimshawe,  with  a 
scowl  into  vacancy,  and  a  sort  of  wicked  leer  of 
merriment  at  the  same  time,  as  if  he  saw  before  him 
the  face  of  the  dead  man  of  past  centuries,  "  I  happen 
to  be  no  lover  of  this  man's  race,  and  I  hate  him  for 
the  sake  of  one  of  his  descendants.  I  don't  think 
he  succeeded  in  bribing  the  Devil  to  let  him  go,  or 
God  to  save  him  ! " 

"  Doctor  Grim,  you  are  very  naughty  ! "  said  Elsie, 
looking  shocked. 

"  It  is  fair  enough,"  said  Ned,  "  to  hate  your  en- 
emies to  the  very  brink  of  the  grave,  but  then  to 
leave  him  to  get  what  mercy  he  can." 

"  After  shoving  him  in  !  "  quoth  the  Doctor ;  and 
made  no  further  response  to  either  of  these  criticisms, 
which  seemed  indeed  to  affect  him  very  little  —  if 


26  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

he  even  listened  to  them.  For  he  was  a  man  of 
singularly  imperfect  moral  culture  ;  insomuch  that 
nothing  else  was  so  remarkable  about  him  as  that  — 
possessing  a  good  deal  of  intellectual  ability,  made 
available  by  much  reading  and  experience  —  he  was 
so  very  dark  on  the  moral  side ;  as  if  he  needed  the 
natural  perceptions  that  should  have  enabled  him  to 
acquire  that  better  wisdom.  Such  a  phenomenon 
often  meets  us  in  life ;  oftener  than  we  recognize, 
because  a  certain  tact  and  exterior  decency  gener- 
ally hide  the  moral  deficiency.  But  often  there  is  a 
mind  well  polished,  married  to  a  conscience  and  nat- 
ural impulses  left  as  they  were  in  childhood,  except 
that  they  have  sprouted  up  into  evil  and  poisonous 
weeds,  richly  blossoming  with  strong-smelling  flowers, 
or  seeds  which  the  plant  scatters  by  a  sort  of  impulse  ; 
even  as  the  Doctor  was  now  half-consciously  throw- 
ing seeds  of  his  evil  passions  into  the  minds  of  these 
children.  He  was  himself  a  grown-up  child,  without 
tact,  simplicity,  and  innocence,  and  with  ripened 
evil,  all  the  ranker  for  a  native  heat  that  was  in  him 
and  still  active,  which  might  have  nourished  good 
things  as  well  as  evil.  Indeed,  it  did  cherish  by 
chance  a  root  or  two  of  good,  the  fragrance  of  which 
was  sometimes  perceptible  among  all  this  rank  growth 
of  poisonous  weeds.  A  grown-up  child  he  was,  — 
that  was  all. 

The  Doctor  now  went  on  to  describe  an  old  coun- 
try-seat, which  stood  near  this  village  and  the  ancient 
Hospital  that  he  had  been  telling  about,  and  which 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWRS   SECRET.          27 

was  formerly  the  residence  of  the  wicked  man  (a 
knight  and  a  brave  one,  well  known  in  the  Lancas- 
trian wars)  who  had  founded  the  latter.  It  was  a 
venerable  old  mansion,  which  a  Saxon  Thane  had 
begun  to  build  more  than  a  thousand  years  ago,  the  , 
old  English  oak  that  he  built  into  the  frame  being 
still  visible  in  the  ancient  skeleton  of  its  roof,  sturdy 
and  strong  as  if  put  up  yesterday.  And  the  de- 
scendants of  the  man  who  built  it,  through  the 
French  line  (for  a  Norman  baron  wedded  the  daugh- 
ter and  heiress  of  the  Saxon),  dwelt  there  yet ;  and  in 
each  century  they  had  done  something  for  the  old 
Hall,  —  building  a  tower,  adding  a  suite  of  rooms, 
strengthening  what  was  already  built,  putting  in  a 
painted  window,  making  it  more  spacious  and  con- 
venient, —  till  it  seemed  as  if  Time  employed  him- 
self in  thinking  what  could  be  done  for  the  old  house. 
As  fast  as  any  part  decayed,  it  was  renewed,  with 
such  simple  art  that  the  new  completed,  as  it  were, 
and  fitted  itself  to  the  old.  So  that  it  seemed  as  if 
the  house  never  had  been  finished,  until  just  that 
thing  was  added.  For  many  an  age,  the  possessors 
had  gone  on  adding  strength  to  strength,  digging  out 
the  moat  to  a  greater  depth,  piercing  the  walls  with 
holes  for  archers  to  shoot  through,  or  building  a  tur- 
ret to  keep  watch  upon.  But  at  last  all  necessity  for 
these  precautions  passed  away,  and  then  they  thought 
of  convenience  and  comfort,  adding  something  in 
every  generation  to  these.  And  by  and  by  they 
thought  of  beauty  too ;  and  in  this  time  helped  them 


28          DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

with  its  weather-stains,  and  the  ivy  that  grew  over 
the  walls,  and  the  grassy  depth  of  the  dried-up  moat, 
and  the  abundant  shade  that  grew  up  everywhere, 
where  naked  strength  would  have  been  ugly. 

"  One  curious  thing  in  the  house,"  said  the  Doctor, 
lowering  his  voice,  but  with  a  mysterious  look  of 
triumph,  and  that  old  scowl,  too,  at  the  children, 
"  was  that  they  built  a  secret  chamber,  —  a  very 
secret  one ! " 

"  A  secret,  chamber ! "  cried  little  Ned ;  "  who  lived 
in  it  ?  A  ghost  ?  " 

"  There  was  often  use  for  it,"  said  Doctor  Grim ; 
"  hiding  people  who  had  fought  on  the  wrong  side, 
or  Catholic  priests,  or  criminals,  or  perhaps  —  who 
knows  ?  —  enemies  that  they  wanted  put  out  of  the 
way,  —  troublesome  folks.  Ah  !  it  was  often  of  use, 
that  secret  chamber  :  and  is  so  still !  " 

Here  the  Doctor  paused  a  long  while,  and  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  slowly  puffing  long  whiffs  from  his 
pipe,  looking  up  at  the  great  spider-demon  that  hung 
over  his  head,  and,  as  it  seemed  to  the  children  by 
the  expression  of  his  face,  looking  into  the  dim 
secret  chamber  which  he  had  spoken  of,  and  which, 
by  something  in  his  mode  of  alluding  to  it,  assumed 
such  a  weird,  spectral  aspect  to  their  imaginations 
that  they  never  wished  to  hear  of  it  again.  Coming 
back  at  length  out  of  his  reverie,  —  returning,  per- 
haps, out  of  some  weird,  ghostly,  secret  chamber  of 
his  memory,  whereof  the  one  in  the  old  house  was 
but  the  less  horrible  emblem,  —  he  resumed  his  tale. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          29 

He  said  that,  a  long  time  ago,  a  war  broke  out  in 
the  old  country  between  King  and  Parliament.  At 
that  period  there  were  several  brothers  of  the  old 
family  (which  had  adhered  to  the  Catholic  religion), 
and  these  chose  the  side  of  the  King  instead  of  that 
of  the  Puritan  Parliament:  all  but  one,  whom  the 
family  hated  because  he  took  the  Parliament  side; 
and  he  became  a  soldier,  and  fought  against  his  own 
brothers;  and  it  was  said  among  them  that,  so  in- 
veterate was  he,  he  went  on  the  scaffold,  masked,  and 
was  the  very  man  who  struck  off  the  King's  head, 
and  that  his  foot  trod  in  the  King's  blood,  and  that 
always  afterwards  he  made  a  bloody  track  wherever 
he  went.  And  there  was  a  legend  that  his  brethren 
once  caught  the  renegade  and  imprisoned  him  in  his 
own  birthplace  — 

"  In  the  secret  chamber  ? "  interrupted  Ned. 

"  No  doubt ! "  said  the  Doctor,  nodding,  "  though  I 
never  heard  so." 

They  imprisoned  him,  but  he  made  his  escape  and 
fled,  and  in  the  morning  his  prison-place,  wherever  it 
was,  was  empty.  %But  on  the  threshold  of  the  door 
of  the  old  manor-house  there  was  the  print  of  a 
bloody  footstep ;  and  no  trouble  that  the  housemaids 
took,  no  rain  of  all  the  years  that  have  since  passed, 
no  sunshine,  has  made  it  fade :  nor  have  all  the  wear 
and  tramp  of  feet  passing  over  it  since  then  availed 
to  erase  it. 

"  I  have  seen  it  myself,"  quoth  the  Doctor,  "  and 
know  this  to  be  true." 


30          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

"  Doctor  Grim,  now  you  are  laughing  at  us,"  said 
Ned,  trying  to  look  grave.  But  Elsie  hid  her  face  on 
the  Doctor's  knee ;  there  being  something  that  affected 
the  vivid  little  girl  with  peculiar  horror  in  the  idea 
of  this  red  footstep  always  glistening  on  the  doorstep, 
and  wetting,  as  she  fancied,  every  innocent  foot  of 
child  or  grown  person  that  had  since  passed  over  it.3 

"  It  is  true  I "  reiterated  the  grim  Doctor ;  "  for,  man 
and  boy,  I  have  seen  it  a  thousand  times." 

He  continued  the  family  history,  or  tradition,  or 
fantastic  legend,  whichever  it  might  be;  telling  his 
young  auditors  that  the  Puritan,  the  renegade  son  of 
the  family,  was  afterwards,  by  the  contrivances  of  his 
brethren,  sent  to  Virginia  and  sold  as  a  bond  slave ; 
arid  how  he  had  vanished  from  that  quarter  and 
come  to  New  England,  where  he  was  supposed  to 
have  left  children.  And  by  and  by  two  elder  broth- 
ers died,  and  this  missing  brother  became  the  heir 
to  the  old  estate  and  to  a  title.  Then  the  family 
tried  to  track  his  bloody  footstep,  and  sought  it  far 
and  near,  through  green  country  paths,  and  old 
streets  of  London;  but  in  vain.  Then  they  sent 
messengers  to  see  whether  any  traces  of  one  stepping 
in  blood  could  be  found  on  the  forest  leaves  of  Amer- 
ica; but  still  in  vain.  The  idea  nevertheless  pre- 
vailed that  he  would  come  back,  and  it  was  said  they 
kept  a  bedchamber  ready  for  him  yet  in  the  old  house. 
But  much  as  they  pretended  to  regret  the  loss  of  him 
and  his  children,  it  would  make  them  curse  their 
stars  were  a  descendant  of  his  to  return  now.  For 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  31 

the  child  of  a  younger  son  was  in  possession  of  the 
old  estate,  and  was  doing  as  much  evil  as  his  fore- 
fathers did ;  and  if  the  true  heir  were  to  appear  on 
the  threshold,  he  would  (if  he  might  but  do  it  se- 
cretly) stain  the  whole  doorstep  as  red  as  the  Bloody 
Footstep  had  stained  one  little  portion  of  it. 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  ever  come  back  ? "  asked 
little  Ned. 

"  Stranger  things  have  happened,  my  little  man ! " 
said  Doctor  Grimshawe,  "  than  that  the  posterity  of 
this  man  should  come  back  and  turn  these  usurpers 
out  of  his  rightful  inheritance.  And  sometimes,  as 
I  sit  here  smoking  my  pipe  and  drinking  my  glass, 
and  looking  up  at  the  cunning  plot  that  the  spider 
is  weaving  yonder  above  my  head,  and  thinking  of 
this  fine  old  family  and  some  little  matters  that  have 
been  between  them  and  rne,  I  fancy  that  it  may  be 
so!  We  shall  see!  Stranger  things  have  hap- 
pened." 

And  Doctor  Grimshawe  drank  off  his  tumbler, 
winking  at  little  Ned  in  a  strange  way,  that  seemed 
to  be  a  kind  of  playfulness,  but  which  did  not  affect 
the  children  pleasantly;  insomuch  that  little  Elsie 
put  both  her  hands  on  Doctor  Grim's  knees,  and 
begged  him  not  to  do  so  any  more.4 


32          DOCTOR   GRIMSHA  WE'S   SECRET. 


CHAPTEE    IV.1 

THE  children,  after  this  conversation,  often  intro- 
duced the  old  English  mansion  into  their  dreams  and 
little  romances,  which  all  imaginative  children  are 
continually  mixing  up  with  their  lives,  making  the 
commonplace  day  of  grown  people  a  rich,  misty, 
glancing  orb  of  fairy-land  to  themselves.  Ned,  for- 
getting or  not  realizing  the  long  lapse  of  time,  used 
to  fancy  the  true  heir  wandering  all  this  while  in 
America,  and  leaving  a  long  track  of  bloody  footsteps 
behind  him;  until  the  period  when,  his  sins  being 
expiated  (whatever  they  might  be),  he  should  turn 
back  upon  his  steps  and  return  to  his  old  native 
home.  And  sometimes  the  child  used  to  look  along 

O 

the  streets  of  the  town  where  he  dwelt,  bending  his 
thoughtful  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  think  that  per- 
haps some  time  he  should  see  the  bloody  footsteps 
there,  betraying  that  the  wanderer  had  just  gone  that 
way. 

As  for  little  Elsie,  it  was  her  fancy  that  the  hero 
of  the  legend  still  remained  imprisoned  in  that  dread- 
ful secret  chamber,  which  had  made  a  most  dread 
impression  on  her  mind ;  and  that  there  he  was,  for- 
gotten all  this  time,  waiting,  like  a  naughty  child 
shut  up  in  a  closet,  until  some  one  should  come  to 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  33 

unlock  the  door.  In  the  pitifulness  of  her  disposi- 
tion, she  once  proposed  to  little  Ned  that,  as  soon  as 
they  grew  big  enough,  they  should  set  out  in  quest 
of  the  old  house,  and  find  their  way  into  it,  and  find 
the  secret  chamber,  and  let  the  poor  prisoner  out.  So 
they  lived  a  good  deal  of  the  time  in  a  half- waking 
dream,  partly  conscious  of  the  fantastic  nature  of 
their  ideas,  yet  with  these  ideas  almost  as  real  to 
them  as  the  facts  of  the  natural  world,  which,  to  chil- 
dren, are  at  first  transparent  and  unsubstantial. 

The  Doctor  appeared  to  have  a  pleasure,  or  a  pur- 
pose, in  keeping  his  legend  forcibly  in  their  memo- 
ries ;  he  often  recurred  to  the  subject  of  the  old  English 
family,  and  was  continually  giving  new  details  about 
its  history,  the  scenery  in  its  neighborhood,  the  as- 
pect of  the  mansion-house ;  indicating  a  very  intense 
interest  in  the  subject  on  his  own  part,  of  which  this 
much  talk  seemed  the  involuntary  overflowing. 

There  was,  however,  an  affection  mingled  with  this 
sentiment.  It  appeared  to  be  his  unfortunate  neces- 
sity to  let  his  thoughts  dwell  very  constantly  upon  a 
subject  that  was  hateful  to  him,  with  which  this  old 
English  estate  and  manor-house  and  family  were 
somehow  connected;  and,  moreover,  had  he  spoken 
thus  to  older  and  more  experienced  auditors,  they 
might  have  detected  in  the  manner  and  matter  of 
his  talk,  a  certain  hereditary  reverence  and  awe,  the 
growth  of  ages,  mixed  up  with  a  newer  hatred,  im- 
pelling him  to  deface  and  destroy  what,  at  the  same 
time,  it  was  his  deepest  impulse  to  bow  before.  The 

3 


34          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

love  belonged  to  his  race ;  the  hatred,  to  himself  in- 
dividually. It  was  the  feeling  of  a  man  lowly  born, 
when  he  contracts  a  hostility  to  his  hereditary  supe- 
rior. In  one  way,  being  of  a  powerful,  passionate 
nature,  gifted  .with  force  and  ability  far  superior  to 
that  of  the  aristocrat,  he  might  scorn  him  and  feel 
able  to  trample  on  him ;  in  another,  he  had  the  same 
awe  that  a  country  boy  feels  of  the  magistrate  who 
flings  him  a  sixpence  and  shakes  his  horsewhip  at 
him. 

Had  the  grim  Doctor  been  an  American,  he  might 
have  had  the  vast  antipathy  to  rank,  without  the 
trace  of  awe  that  made  it  so  much  more  malignant : 
it  required  a  low-born  Englishman  to  feel  the  two 
together.  What  made  the  hatred  so  fiendish  was  a 
something  that,  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  would 
have  been  loyalty,  inherited  affection,  devoted  self- 
sacrifice  to  a  superior.  Whatever  it  might  be,  it 
seemed  at  times  (when  his  potations  took  deeper 
effect  than  ordinary)  almost  to  drive  the  grim  Doctor 
mad ;  for  he  would  burst  forth  in  wild  diatribes  and 
anathemas,  having  a  strange,  rough  force  of  expression 
and  a  depth  of  utterance,  as  if  his  words  came  from  a 
bottomless  pit  within  himself,  where  burned  an  ever- 
lasting fire,  and  where  the  furies  had  their  home  ;  and 
plans  of  dire  revenge  were  welded  into  shape  as  in 
the  heat  of  a  furnace.  After  the  two  poor  children 
had  been  affrighted  by  paroxysms  of  this  kind,  the 
strange  being  would  break  out  into  one  of  his  roars 
of  laughter,  that  seemed  to  shake  the  house,  and,  at 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S   SECRET.          35 

all  events,  caused  the  cobwebs  and  spiders  suspended 
from  the  ceiling,  to  swing  and  vibrate  with  the  motion 
of  the  volumes  of  reverberating  breath  which  he  thus 
expelled  from  his  capacious  lungs.  Then,  catching 
up  little  Elsie  upon  one  knee  and  Ned  upon  the 
other,  he  would  become  gentler  than  in  his  usual 
moods,  and,  by  the  powerful  magnetism  of  his  char- 
acter, cause  them  to  think  him  as  tender  and  sweet 
an  old  fellow  as  a  child  could  desire  for  a  playmate. 
Upon  the  whole,  strange  as  it  may  appear,  they  loved 
the  grim  Doctor  dearly  ;  there  was  a  loadstone  within 
him  that  drew  them  close  to  him  and  kept  them 
there,  in  spite  of  the  horror  of  many  things  that  he 
said  and  did.  One  thing  that,  slight  as  it  seemed, 
wrought  mightily  towards  their  mutually  petting  each 
other,  was  that  no  amount  of  racket,  hubbub,  shout- 
ing, laughter,  or  noisy  mischief  which  the  two  chil- 
dren could  perpetrate,  ever  disturbed  the  Doctor's 
studies,  meditations,  or  employments  of  whatever 
kind.  He  had  a  hardy  set  of  nerves,  not  refined  by 
careful  treatment  in  himself  or  his  ancestors,  but  prob- 
ably accustomed  from  of  old  to  be  drummed  on  by 
harsh  voices,  rude  sounds,  and  the  clatter  and  clamor 
of  household  life  among  homely,  uncultivated,  strong- 
ly animal  people. 

As  the  two  children  grew  apace,  it  behooved  their 
strange  guardian  to  take  some  thought  for  their  in- 
struction. So  far  as  little  Elsie  was  concerned,  how- 
ever, he  seemed  utterly  indifferent  to  her  having  any 
cultivation :  having  imbibed  no  modern  ideas  respect- 


36          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

ing  feminine  capacities  and  privileges,  but  regarding 
woman,  whether  in  the  bud  or  in  the  blossom,  as  the 
plaything  of  man's  idler  moments,  and  the  helpmeet 
—  but  in  a  humble  capacity  —  of  his  daily  life.  He 
sometimes  bade  her  go  to  the  kitchen  and  take  lessons 
of  crusty  Hannah  in  bread-making,  sweeping,  dust- 
ing, washing,  the  coarser  needlework,  and  such  other 
things  as  she  would  require  to  know  when  she  came 
to  be  a  woman  ;  but  carelessly  allowed  her  to  gather 
up  the  crumbs  of  such  instruction  as  he  bestowed  on 
her  playmate  Ned,  and  thus  learn  to  read,  write,  and 
cipher ;  which,  to  say  the  truth,  was  about  as  far  in 
the  way  of  scholarship  as  little  Elsie  cared  to  go. 

But  towards  little  Ned  the  grim  Doctor  adopted  a 
far  different  system.  No  sooner  had  he  reached  the 
age  when  the  soft  and  tender  intellect  of  the  child 
became  capable  of  retaining  impressions,  than  he  took 
him  vigorously  in  hand,  assigning  him  such  tasks  as 
were  fit  for  him,  and  curiously  investigating  what 
were  the  force  and  character  of  the  powers  with  which 
the  child  grasped  them.  Not  that  the  Doctor  pressed 
him  forward  unduly;  indeed,  there  was  no  need  of 
it;  for  the  boy  manifested  a  remarkable  docility  for 
instruction,  and  a  singular  quickness  in  mastering  the 
preliminary  steps  which  lead  to  science  :  a  subtle 
instinct,  indeed,  which  it  seemed  wonderful  a  child 
should  possess  for  anything  as  artificial  as  systems 
of  grammar  and  arithmetic.  A  remarkable  boy,  in 
truth,  he  was,  to  have  been  found  by  chance  in  an 
almshouse  ;  except  that,  such  being  his  origin,  we 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          37 

are  at  liberty  to  suppose  for  him  whatever  long  culti- 
vation and  gentility  we  may  think  necessary,  in  his 
parentage  of  either  side,  —  such  as  was  indicated  also 
by  his  graceful  and  refined  beauty  of  person.  He 
showed,  indeed,  even  before  he  began  to  read  at  all, 
an  instinctive  attraction  towards  books,  and  a  love  for 
and  interest  in  even  the  material  form  of  knowledge, 
—  the  plates,  the  print,  the  binding  of  the  Doctor's 
volumes,  and  even  in  a  bookworm  which  he  once 
found  in  an  old  volume,  where  it  had  eaten  a  circular 
furrow.  But  the  little  boy  had  too  quick  a  spirit  of 
life  to  be  in  danger  of  becoming  a  bookworm  himself. 
He  had  this  side  of  the  intellect,  but  his  impulse 
would  be  to  mix  with  men,  and  catch  something  from 
their  intercourse  fresher  than  books  could  give  him  ; 
though  these  would  give  him  what  they  might. 

In  the  grim  Doctor,  rough  and  uncultivated  as  he 
seemed,  this  budding  intelligence  found  no  inadequate 
instructor.  Doctor  Grimshawe  proved  himself  a  far 
more  thorough  scholar,  in  the  classics  and  mathemat- 
ics, than  could  easily  have  been  found  in  our  country. 
He  himself  must  have  had  rigid  and  faithful  instruc- 
tion at  an  early  period  of  life,  though  probably  not  in 
his  boyhood.  For,  though  the  culture  had  been  be- 
stowed, his  mind  had  been  left  in  so  singularly  rough 
a  state  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  refinement  of  classical 
study  could  not  have  been  begun  very  early.  Or  pos- 
sibly the  mind  and  nature  were  incapable  of  polish  ; 
or  he  may  have  had  a  coarse  and  sordid  domestic  life 
around  him  in  his  infancy  and  youth.  He  was  a  gem 


38          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

of  coarse  texture,  just  hewn  out.  An  American  with 
a  like  education  would  more  likely  have  gained  a  cer- 
tain fineness  and  grace,  and  it  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult to  distinguish  him  from  one  who  had  been  born 
to  culture  and  refinement.  This  sturdy  Englishman, 
after  all  that  had  been  done  for  his  mind,  and  though 
it  had  been  well  done,  was  still  but  another  plough- 
man, of  a  long  race  of  such,  with  a  few  scratchings  of 
refinement  on  his  hard  exterior.  His  son,  if  he  left  one, 
might  be  a  little  less  of  the  ploughman  ;  his  grand- 
son, provided  the  female  element  were  well  chosen, 
might  approach  to  refinement ;  three  generations  —  a 
century  at  least  —  would  be  required  for  the  slow 
toil  of  hewing,  chiselling,  and  polishing  a  gentleman 
out  of  this  ponderous  block,  now  rough  from  the 
quarry  of  human  nature.  But,  in  the  mean  time,  he 
evidently  possessed  in  an  unusual  degree  the  sort  of 
learning  that  refines  other  minds,  —  the  critical  ac- 
quaintance with  the  great  poets  and  historians  of  an- 
tiquity, and  apparently  an  appreciation  of  their  merits, 
and  power  to  teach  their  beauty.  So  the  boy  had  an 
•able  tutor,  capable,  it  would  seem,  of  showing  him  the 
way  to  the  graces  he  did  not  himself  possess ;  besides 
helping  the  growth  of  the  strength  without  which  re- 
finement is  but  sickly  and  disgusting. 

Another  sort  of  culture,  which  it  seemed  odd  that 
this  rude  man  should  undertake,  was  that  of  manners; 
but,  in  fact,  rude  as  the  grim  Doctor's  own  manners 
were,  he  was  one  of  the  nicest  and  severest  censors 
in  that  department  that  was  ever  known.  It  is  dim*- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S   SECRET.  39 

cult  to  account  for  this ;  although  it  is  almost  in- 
variably found  that  persons  in  a  low  rank  of  life,  such 
as  servants  and  laborers,  will  detect  the  false  pre- 
tender to  the  character  of  a  gentleman,  with  at  least 
as  sure  an  instinct  as  the  class  into  which  they  seek 
to  thrust  themselves.  Perhaps  they  recognize  some- 
thing akin  to  their  own  vulgarity,  rather  than  appre- 
ciate what  is  unlike  themselves.  The  Doctor  possessed 
a  peculiar  power  of  rich  rough  humor  on  this  subject, 
and  used  to  deliver  lectures,  as  it  were,  to  little  Ned, 
illustrated  with  sketches  of  living  individuals  in  the 
town  where  they  dwelt ;  by  an  unscrupulous  use  of 
whom  he  sought  to  teach  the  boy  what  to  avoid  in 
manners,  if  he  sought  to  be  a  gentleman.  But  it 
must  be  confessed  he  spared  himself  as  little  as  other 
people,  and  often  wound  up  with  this  compendious 
injunction,  —  "Be  everything  in  your  behavior  that 
Doctor  Grim  is  not ! " 

His  pupil,  very  probably,  profited  somewhat  by 
these  instructions ;  for  there  are  specialties  and  arbi- 
trary rules  of  behavior  which  do  not  come  by  nature. 
But  these  are  few ;  and  beautiful,  noble,  and  genial 
manners  may  almost  be  called  a  natural  gift;  and 
these,  however  he  inherited  them,  soon  proved  to  be 
an  inherent  possession  of  little  Ned.  He  had  a  kind 
of  natural  refinement,  which  nothing  could  ever  soil 
or  offend ;  it  seemed,  by  some  magic  or  other,  abso- 
lutely to  keep  him  from  the  knowledge  of  much  of 
the  grim  Doctor's  rude  and  sordid  exterior,  and  to 
render  what  was  around  him  beautiful  by  a  sort  of 


40  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

affiliation,  or  reflection  from  that  quality  in  himself, 
glancing  its  white  light  upon  it.  The  Doctor  himself 
was  puzzled, and  apparently  both  startled  and  delighted 
at  the  perception  of  these  characteristics.  Sometimes 
he  would  make  a  low,  uncouth  bow,  after  his  fashion, 
to  the  little  fellow,  saying,  "  Allow  me  to  kiss  your 
hand,  my  lord ! "  and  little  Ned,  not  quite  knowing 
what  the  grim  Doctor  meant,  yet  allowed  the  favor 
he  asked,  with  a  grave  and  gracious  condescension 
that  seemed  much  to  delight  the  suitor.  This  refusal 
to  recognize  or  to  suspect  that  the  Doctor  might  be 
laughing  at  him  was  a  sure  token,  at  any  rate,  of  the 
lack  of  one  vulgar  characteristic  in  little  Ned. 

In  order  to  afford  little  Ned  every  advantage  to 
these  natural  gifts,  Doctor  Grim  nevertheless  failed 
not  to  provide  the  best  attainable  instructor  for  such 
positive  points  of  a  polite  education  as  his  own  fierce 
criticism,  being  destructive  rather  than  generative, 
would  not  suffice  for.  There  was  a  Frenchman  in 
the  town  —  a  M.  Le  Grand,  secretly  calling  himself 
a  Count  —  who  taught  the  little  people,  and,  indeed, 
some  of  their  elders,  the  Parisian  pronunciation  of  his 
own  language ;  and  likewise  dancing  (in  which  he  was 
more  of  an  adept  and  more  successful  than  in  the 
former  branch)  and  fencing :  in  which,  after  looking 
at  a  lesson  or  two,  the  grim  Doctor  was  satisfied  of 
his  skill.  Under  his  instruction,  with  the  stimulus 
of  the  Doctor's  praise  and  criticism,  Ned  soon  grew  to 
be  the  pride  of  the  Frenchman's  school,  in  both  the 
active  departments ;  and  the  Doctor  himself  added 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  41 

a  further  gymnastic  acquirement  (not  absolutely  ne- 
cessary, he  said,  to  a  gentleman's  education,  but  very 
desirable  to  a  man  perfect  at  all  points)  by  teach- 
ing him  cudgel-playing  and  pugilism.  In  short,  in 
everything  that  related  to  accomplishments,  whether 
of  mind  or  body,  no  pains  were  spared  with  little 
Ned ;  but  of  the  utilitarian  line  of  education,  then 
almost  exclusively  adopted,  and  especially  desirable 
for  a  fortuneless  boy  like  Ned,  dependent  on  a  man 
not  wealthy,  there  was  little  given. 

At  first,  too,  the  Doctor  paid  little  attention  to  the 
moral  and  religious  culture  of  his  pupil ;  nor  did  he 
ever  make  a  system  of  it.  But  by  and  by,  though 
with  a  singular  reluctance  and  kind  of  bashfulness, 
he  began  to  extend  his  care  to  these  matters ;  being 
drawn  into  them  unawares,  and  possibly  perceiving 
and  learning  what  he  taught  as  he  went  along.  One 
evening,  I  know  not  how,  he  was  betrayed  into  speak- 
ing on  this  point,  and  a  sort  of  inspiration  seized  him. 
A  vista  opened  before  him :  handling  an  immortal 
spirit,  he  began  to  know  its  requisitions,  in  a  degree 
far  beyond  what  he  had  conceived  them  to  be  when 
his  great  task  was  undertaken.  His  voice  grew  deep, 
and  had  a  strange,  impressive  pathos  in  it ;  his  talk 
became  eloquent  with  depth  of  meaning  and  feeling, 
as  he  told  the  boy  of  the  moral  dangers  of  the  world, 
for  which  he  was  seeking  to  educate  him ;  and  which, 
he  said,  presented  what  looked  like  great  triumphs, 
and  yet  were  the  greatest  and  saddest  of  defeats.  He 
told  him  that  many  things  that  seemed  nearest  and 


42  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

dearest  to  the  heart  of  man  were  destructive,  eating 
and  gnawing  away  and  corroding  what  was  best  in 
him;  and  what  a  high,  noble,  re-creating  triumph 
it  was  when  these  dark  impulses  were  resisted  and 
overthrown ;  and  how,  from  that  epoch,  the  soul  took 
a  new  start.  He  denounced  the  selfish  greed  of  gold, 
lawless  passion,  revenge,  —  and  here  the  grim  Doctor 
broke  out  into  a  strange  passion  and  zeal  of  anathema 
against  this  deadly  sin,  making  a  dreadful  picture  of 
the  ruin  that  it  creates  in  the  heart  where  it  establishes 
itself,  and  how  it  makes  a  corrosive  acid  of  those 
genial  juices.  Then  he  told  the  boy  that  the  condi- 
tion of  all  good  was,  in  the  first  place,  truth ;  then, 
courage ;  then,  justice  ;  then,  mercy ;  out  of  which 
principles  operating  upon  one  another  would  come 
all  brave,  noble,  high,  unselfish  actions,  and  the  scorn 
of  all  mean  ones ;  and  how  that  from  such  a  nature 
all  hatred  would  fall  away,  and  all  good  affections 
would  be  ennobled. 

I  know  not  at  what  point  it  was,  precisely,  in  these 
ethical  instructions  that  an  insight  seemed  to  strike 
the  grim  Doctor  that  something  more  —  vastly  more 
—  was  needed  than  all  he  had  said ;  and  he  began, 
doubtfully,  to  speak  of  man's  spiritual  nature  and 
its  demands,  and  the  emptiness  of  everything  which 
a  sense  of  these  demands  did  not  pervade,  and  con- 
dense, and  weighten  into  realities.  And  going  on  in 
this  strain,  he  soared  out  of  himself  and  astonished 
the  two  children,  who  stood  gazing  at  him,  wondering 
whether  it  were  the  Doctor  who  was  speaking  thus ; 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  43 

until  some  interrupting  circumstance  seemed  to  bring 
him  back  to  himself,  and  he  burst  into  one  of  his 
great  roars  of  laughter.  The  inspiration,  the  strange 
light  whereby  he  had  been  transfigured,  passed  out 
of  his  face  ;  and  there  was  the  uncouth,  wild-bearded, 
rough,  earthy,  passionate  man,  whom  they  called 
Doctor  Grim,  looking  ashamed  of  himself,  and  trying 
to  turn  the  whole  matter  into  a  jest.2 

It  was  a  sad  pity  that  he  should  have  been  inter- 
rupted, and  brought  into  this  mocking  mood,  just 
when  he  seemed  to  have  broken  away  from  the  sin- 
fulness  of  his  hot,  evil  nature,  and  to  have  soared 
into  a  region  where,  with  all  his  native  characteris- 
tics transfigured,  he  seemed  to  have  become  an  augel 
in  his  own  likeness.  Crusty  Hannah,  who  had  been 
drawn  to  the  door  of  the  study  by  the  unusual  tones 
of  his  voice,  —  a  kind  of  piercing  sweetness  in  it,  — 
always  averred  that  she  saw  the  gigantic  spider 
swooping  round  his  head  in  great  crafty  circles,  and 
clutching,  as  it  were,  at  his  brain  with  its  great  claws. 
But  it  was  the  old  woman's  absurd  idea  that  this 
hideous  insect  was  the  Devil,  in  that  ugly  guise,  — 
a  superstition  which  deserves  absolutely  no  counte- 
nance. Nevertheless,  though  this  paroxysm  of  devo- 
tional feeling  and  insight  returned  no  more  to  the 
grim  Doctor,  it  was  ever  after  a  memorable  occasion 
to  the  two  children.  It  touched  that  religious  chord, 
in  both  their  hearts,  which  there  was  no  mother  to 
touch  ;  but  now  it  vibrated  long,  and  never  ceased 
to  vibrate  so  long  as  they  remained  together,  —  nor, 


44          DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

perhaps,  after  they  were  parted  from  each  other  and 
from  the  grim  Doctor.  And  even  then,  in  those  after 
years,  the  strange  music  that  had  been  awakened  was 
continued,  as  it  were  the  echo  from  harps  on  high. 
Now,  at  all  events,  they  made  little  prayers  for  them- 
selves, and  said  them  at  bedtime,  generally  in  secret, 
sometimes  in  unison ;  and  they  read  in  an  old  dusty 
Bible  which  lay  among  the  grim  Doctor's  books  ;  and 
from  little  heathens,  they  became  Christian  children. 
Doctor  Grimshawe  was  perhaps  conscious  of  this 
result  of  his  involuntary  preachment,  but  he  never 
directly  noticed  it,  and  did  nothing  either  to  efface 
or  deepen  the  impression. 

It  w^as  singular,  however,  that,  in  both  the  chil- 
dren's minds,  this  one  gush  of  irresistible  religious 
sentiment,  breaking  out  of  the  grim  Doctor's  inner 
depths,  like  a  sort  of  holy  lava  from  a  volcano  that 
usually  emitted  quite  other  matter,  (such  as  hot, 
melted  wrath  and  hate,)  quite  threw  out  of  sight, 
then  and  always  afterwards,  his  darker  characteristics. 
They  remembered  him,  with  faith  and  love,  as  a  reli- 
gious man,  and  forgot  —  what  perhaps  had  made  no 
impression  on  their  innocent  hearts  —  all  the  traits 
that  other  people  might  have  called  devilish.  To  them 
the  grim  Doctor  was  a  saint,  even  during  his  lifetime 
and  constant  intercourse  with  them,  and  canonized 
forever  afterwards.  There  is  almost  always,  to  be 
sure,  this  profound  faith,  with  regard  to  those  they 
love,  in  childhood ;  but  perhaps,  in  this  instance,  the 
children  really  had  a  depth  of  insight  that  grown 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          45 

people  lacked ;  a  profound  recognition  of  the  bottom 
of  this  strange  man's  nature,  which  was  of  such  stuff 
as  martyrs  and  heroic  saints  might  have  been  made 
of,  though  here  it  had  been  wrought  miserably  amiss. 
At  any  rate,  his  face  with  the  holy  awe  upon  it 
was  what  they  saw  and  remembered,  when  they 
thought  of  their  friend  Doctor  Grim. 

One  effect  of  his  zealous  and  analytic  instruction 
of  the  boy  was  very  perceptible.  Heretofore,  though 
enduring  him,  and  occasionally  making  a  plaything  of 
him,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  grim  Doctor  had 
really  any  strong  affection  for  the  child :  it  rather 
seemed  as  if  his  strong  will  were  forcing  him  to  un- 
dertake, and  carry  sedulously  forward,  a  self-imposed 
task.  All  that  he  had  done  —  his  redeeming  the 
bright  child  from  poverty  and  nameless  degradation, 
ignorance,  and  a  sordid  life  hopeless  of  better  for- 
tune, and  opening  to  him  the  whole  realm  of  mighty 
possibilities  in  an  American  life  —  did  not  imply  any 
love  for  the  little  individual  whom  he  thus  benefited. 
It  had  some  other  motive. 

But  now,  approaching  the  child  in  this  close,  inti- 
mate, and  helpful  way,  it  was  very  evident  that  his 
interest  took  a  tenderer  character.  There  was  every- 
thing in  the  boy,  that  a  boy  could  possess,  to  attract 
affection ;  he  would  have  been  a  father's  pride  and  joy. 
Doctor  Grimshawe,  indeed,  was  not  his  father ;  but 
to  a  person  of  his  character  this  was  perhaps  no  cause 
of  lesser  love  than  if  there  had  been  the  whole  of  that 
holy  claim  of  kindred  between  them.  We  speak  of 


46          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE' S  SECRET. 

the  natural  force  of  blood ;  we  speak  of  the  paternal 
relation  as  if  it  were  productive  of  more  earnest  affec- 
tion than  can  exist  between  two  persons,  one  of  whom 
is  protective,  but  unrelated.  But  there  are  wild,  for- 
cible, unrestricted  characters,  on  whom  the  necessity 
and  even  duty  of  loving  their  own  child  is  a  sort  of 
barrier  to  love.  They  perhaps  do  not  love  their  own 
traits,  which  they  recognize  in  their  children ;  they 
shrink  from  their  own  features  in  the  reflection  pre- 
sented by  these  little  mirrors.  A  certain  strangeness 
and  unlikeness  (such  as  gives  poignancy  to  the  love 
between  the  sexes)  would  excite  a  livelier  affection. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  not  probable  that  Doctor 
Grimshawe  would  have  loved  a  child  of  his  own 
blood,  with  the  coarse  characteristics  that  he  knew 
both  in  his  race  and  himself,  with  nearly  such  fervor 
as  this  beautiful,  slender,  yet  strenuous,  intelligent, 
refined  boy,  —  with  such  a  high-bred  air,  handling 
common  things  with  so  refined  a  touch,  yet  grasping 
them  so  firmly ;  throwing  a  natural  grace  on  all  he 
did.  Was  he  not  his  father,, —  he  that  took  this  fair 
blossom  out  of  the  sordid  mud  in  which  he  must 
soon  have  withered  and  perished  ?  Was  not  this 
beautiful  strangeness,  which  he  so  wondered  at,  the 
result  of  his  care  ? 

And  little  Elsie  ?  did  the  grim  Doctor  love  her  as 
well  ?  Perhaps  not,  for,  in  the  first  place,  there  was 
a  natural  tie,  though  not  the  nearest,  between  her 
and  Doctor  Grimshawe,  which  made  him  feel  that 
she  was  cast  upon  his  love :  a  burden  which  he  ac- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          47 

knowledged  himself  bound  to  undertake.  Then,  too, 
there  were  unutterably  painful  reminiscences  and 
thoughts,  that  made  him  gasp  for  breath,  that  turned 
his  blood  sour,  that  tormented  his  dreams  with  night- 
mares and  hellish  phantoms ;  all  of  which  were  con- 
nected with  this  innocent  and  happy  child ;  so  that, 
cheerful  and  pleasant  as  she  was,  there  was  to  the 
grim  Doctor  a  little  fiend  playing  about  his  floor  and 
throwing  a  lurid  light  on  the  wall,  as  the  shadow  of 
this  sun-flickering  child.  It  is  certain  that  there  was 
always  a  pain  and  horror  mixed  with  his  feelings 
towards  Elsie  ;  he  had  to  forget  himself,  as  it  were, 
and  all  that  was  connected  with  the  causes  why  she 
came  to  be,  before  he  could  love  her.  Amid  his 
fondness,  when  he  was  caressing  her  upon  his  knee, 
pressing  her  to  his  rough  bosom,  as  he  never  took 
the  freedom  to  press  Ned,  came  these  hateful  remi- 
niscences, compelling  him  to  set  her  down,  and  cor- 
rugating his  heavy  brows  as  with  a  pang  of  fiercely 
resented,  strongly  borne  pain.  Still,  the  child  had 
no  doubt  contrived  to  make  her  way  into  the  great 
gloomy  cavern  of  the  grim  Doctor's  heart,  and  stole 
constantly  further  and  further  in,  carrying  a  ray  of 
sunshine  in  her  hand  as  a  taper  to  light  her  way,  and 
illuminate  the  rude  dark  pit  into  which  she  so  fear- 
lessly went. 


48  DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER  V. 

DOCTOR  GRIM  l  had  the  English  faith  in  open  air 
and  daily  acquaintance  with  the  weather,  whatever 
it  might  be ;  and  it  was  his  habit,  not  only  to  send 
the  two  children  to  play,  for  lack  of  a  better  place,  in 
the  graveyard,  but  to  take  them  himself  on  long  ram- 
bles, of  which  the  vicinity  of  the  town  afforded  a  rich 
variety.  It  may  be  that  the  Doctor's  excursions  had 
the  wider  scope,  because  both  he  and  the  children 
were  objects  of  curiosity  in  the  town,  and  very  much 
the  subject  of  its  gossip  :  so  that  always,  in  its  streets 
and  lanes,  the  people  turned  to  gaze,  and  came  to 
their  windows  and  to  the  doors  of  shops  to  see  this 
grim,  bearded  figure,  leading  along  the  beautiful  chil- 
dren each  by  a  hand,  with  a  surly  aspect  like  a  bull- 
dog. Their  remarks  were  possibly  not  intended  to 
reach  the  ears  of  the  party,  but  certainly  were  not  so 
cautiously  whispered  but  they  occasionally  did  do  so. 
The  male  remarks,  indeed,  generally  died  away  in  the 
throats  that  uttered  them  ;  a  circumstance  that  doubt- 
less saved  the  utterer  from  some  very  rough  rejoinder 
at  the  hands  of  the  Doctor,  who  had  grown  up  in  the 
habit  of  a  very  ready  and  free  recourse  to  his  fists, 
which  had  a  way  of  doubling  themselves  up  seem- 
ingly of  their  own  accord.  But  the  shrill  feminine 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  49 

voices  sometimes  sent  their  observations  from  win- 
dow to  window  without  dread  of  any  such  repartee 
on  the  part  of  the  subject  of  them. 

"  There  he  goes,  the  old  Spider-witch ! "  quoth  one 
shrill  woman,  "  with  those  two  poor  babes  that  he  has 
caught  in  his  cobweb,  and  is  going  to  feed  upon,  poor 
little  tender  things  !  The  bloody  Englishman  makes 
free  with  the  dead  bodies  of  our  friends  and  the  liv- 
ing ones  of  our  children  ! " 

"  How  red  his  nose  is  ! "  quoth  another ;  "  he  has 
pulled  at  the  brandy-bottle  pretty  stoutly  to-day, 
early  as  it  is !  Pretty  habits  those  children  will  learn, 
between  the  Devil  in  the  shape  of  a  great  spider,  and 
this  devilish  fellow  in  his  own  shape  !  It  were  well 
that  our  townsmen  tarred  and  feathered  the  old  Brit- 
ish wizard ! " 

And,  as  he  got  further  off,  two  or  three  little  black- 
guard barefoot  boys  shouted  shrilly  after  him,  — 

"Doctor  Grim,  Doctor  Grim, 
The  Devil  wove  a  web  for  him !  " 

being  a  nonsensical  couplet  that  had  been  made  for 
the  grim  Doctor's  benefit,  and  was  hooted  in  the 
streets,  and  under  his  own  windows.  Hearing  such 
remarks  and  insults,  the  Doctor  would  glare  round  at 
them  with  red  eyes,  especially  if  the  brandy-bottle 
had  happened  to  be  much  in  request  that  day. 

Indeed,  poor  Doctor  Grim  had  met  with  a  fortune 
which  befalls  many  a  man  with  less  cause  than  drew 
the  public  attention  on  this  odd  humorist;  for,  dwell- 
ing in  a  town  which  was  as  yet  but  a  larger  village, 

4 


50          DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

where  everybody  knew  everybody,  and  claimed  the 
privilege  to  know  and  discuss  their  characters,  and 
where  there  were  few  topics  of  public  interest  to  take 
off  their  attention,  a  very  considerable  portion  of  town 
talk  and  criticism  fell  upon  him.  The  old  town  had 
a  certain  provincialism,  which  is  less  the  character- 
istic of  towns  in  these  days,  when  society  circulates 
so  freely,  than  then:  besides,  it  was  a  very  rude 
epoch,  just  when  the  country  had  come  through  the 
war  of  the  Eevolution,  and  while  the  surges  of  that 
•  commotion  were  still  seething  and  swelling,  and  while 
the  habits  and  morals  of  every  individual  in  the  com- 
munity still  felt  its  influence ;  and  especially  the  con- 
test was  too  recent  for  an  Englishman  to  be  in  very 
good  odor,  unless  he  should  cease  to  be  English,  and 
become  more  American  than  the  Americans  them- 
selves in  repudiating  British  prejudices  or  principles, 
habits,  mode  of  thought,  and  everything  that  distin- 
guishes Britons  at  home  or  abroad.  As  Doctor  Grim 
did  not  see  fit  to  do  this,  and  as,  moreover,  he  was  a 
veiy  doubtful,  questionable,  morose,  unamiable  old 
fellow,  not  seeking  to  make  himself  liked  nor  deserv- 
ing to  be  so,  he  was  a  very  unpopular  person  in  the 
town  where  he  had  chosen  to  reside.  Nobody  thought 
very  well  of  him ;  the  respectable  people  had  heard 
of  his  pipe  and  brandy-bottle ;  the  religious  commu- 
nity knew  that  he  never  showed  himself  at  church 
or  meeting ;  so  that  he  had  not  that  very  desirable 
strength  (in  a  society  split  up  into  many  sects)  of 
being  able  to  rely  upon  the  party  sympathies  of  any 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S   SECRET.  51 

one  of  them.  The  mob  hated  him  with  the  blind 
sentiment  that  makes  one  surly  cur  hostile  to  another 
surly  cur.  He  was  the  most  isolated  individual  to  be 
found  anywhere;  and,  being  so  unsupported,  every- 
body was  his  enemy. 

The  town,  as  it  happened,  had  been  pleased  to  in- 
terest itself  much  in  this  matter  of  Doctor  Grim  and 
the  two  children,  insomuch  as  he  never  sent  them  to 
school,  nor  came  with  them  to  meeting  of  any  kind, 
but  was  bringing  them  up  ignorant  heathen  to  all 
appearances,  and,  as  many  believed,  was  devoting 
them  in  some  way  to  the  great  spider,  to  which  he 
had  bartered  his  own  soul.  It  had  been  mooted 
among  the  selectmen,  the  fathers  of  the  town,  whether 
their  duty  did  not  require  them  to  put  the  children 
under  more  suitable  guardianship  ;  a  measure  which, 
it  may  be,  was  chiefly  hindered  by  the  consideration 
that,  in  that  case,  the  cost  of  supporting  them  would 
probably  be  transferred  from  the  grim  Doctor's  shoul- 
ders to  those  of  the  community.  Nevertheless,  they 
did  what  they  could.  Maidenly  ladies,  prim  and 
starched,  in  one  or  two  instances  called  upon  the 
Doctor  —  the  two  children  meanwhile  being  in  the 
graveyard  at  play  — 0to  give  him  Christian  advice  as 
to  the  management  of  his  charge.  But,  to  confess 
the  truth,  the  Doctor's  reception  of  these  fair  mission- 
aries was  not  extremely  courteous.  They  were,  per- 
haps, partly  instigated  by  a  natural  feminine  desire 
to  see  the  interior  of  a  place  about  which  they  had 
heard  much,  with  its  spiders'  webs,  its  strange  ma- 


52  DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

chines  and  confusing  tools ;  so,  much  contrary  to 
crusty  Hannah's  advice,  they  persisted  in  entering. 
Crusty  Hannah  listened  at  the  door ;  and  it  was  cu- 
rious to  see  the  delighted  smile  which  came  over  her 
dry  old  visage  as  the  Doctor's  growling,  rough  voice, 
after  an  abrupt  question  or  two,  and  a  reply  in  a  thin 
voice  on  the  part  of  the  maiden  ladies,  grew  louder 
and  louder,  till  the  door  opened,  and  forth  came  the 
benevolent  pair  in  great  discomposure.  Crusty  Han- 
nah averred  that  their  caps  were  much  rumpled  ;  but 
this  view  of  the  thing  was  questioned ;  though  it  were 
certain  that  the  Doctor  called  after  them  downstairs, 
that,  had  they  been  younger  and  prettier,  they  would 
have  fared  worse.  A  male  emissary,  who  was  ad- 
mitted on  the  supposition  of  his  being  a  patient,  did 
fare  worse  ;  for  (the  grim  Doctor  having  been  partic- 
ularly intimate  with  the  black  bottle  that  afternoon) 
there  was,  about  ten  minutes  after  the  visitor's  en- 
trance, a  sudden  fierce  upraising  of  the  Doctor's 
growl;  then  a  struggle  that  shook  the  house;  and, 
finally,  a  terrible  rumbling  down  the  stairs,  which 
proved  to  be  caused  by  the  precipitate  descent  of  the 
hapless  visitor;  who,  if  he  needed  no  assistance  of 
the  grim  Doctor  on  his  entrance,  certainly  would 
have  been  the  better  for  a  plaster  or  two  after  his 
departure. 

Such  were  the  terms  on  which  Doctor  Grimshawe 
now  stood  with  his  adopted  townspeople ;  and  if  we 
consider  the  dull  little  town  to  be  full  of  exaggerated 
stories  about  the  Doctor's  oddities,  mauv  of  them 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.  53 

forged,  all  retailed  in  an  unfriendly  spirit ;  misconcep- 
tions of  a  character  which,  in  its  best  and  most  can- 
didly interpreted  aspects,  was  sufficiently  amenable  to 
censure ;  surmises  taken  for  certainties  ;  superstitions 

—  the  genuine  hereditary  offspring  of  the  frame  of 
public  mind  which  produced  the  witchcraft  delusion 

—  all  fermenting  together ;  and  all  this  evil  and  un- 
charitableness  taking  the  delusive  hue  of  benevolent 
interest  in  two  helpless  children ;  —  we  may  partly 
judge  what  was  the  odium  in  which  the  grim  Doctor 
dwelt,  and  amid  which  he  walked.     The  horrid  sus- 
picion, too,  countenanced  by  his  abode  in  the  corner 
of  the  graveyard,  affording  the  terrible  Doctor  such 
facilities  for  making  free,  like  a  ghoul  as  he  was,  with 
the  relics  of  mortality  from  the  earliest  progenitor  to 
the  man  killed  yesterday  by  the  Doctor's  own  drugs, 
was  not  likely  to  improve  his  reputation. 

He  had  heretofore  contented  himself  with,  at  most, 
occasionally  shaking  his  stick  at  his  assailants  ;  but 
this  day  the  black  bottle  had  imparted,  it  may  be,  a 
little  more  fire  than  ordinary  to  his  blood ;  and  be- 
sides, an  unlucky  urchin  happened  to  take  particu- 
larly good  aim  with  a  mud  ball,  which  took  effect 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  Doctor's  bushy  beard,  and, 
being  of  a  soft  consistency,  forthwith  became  incor- 
porated with  it.  At  this  intolerable  provocation  the 
grim  Doctor  pursued  the  little  villain,  amid  a  shower 
of  similar  missiles  from  the  boy's  playmates,  caught 
him  as  he  was  escaping  into  a  back  yard,  dragged 
him  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  and,  with  his 


54          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

stick,  proceeded  to  give  him  his  merited  chastise- 
ment. 

But,  hereupon,  it  was  astonishing  how  sudden  com- 
motion flashed  up  like  gunpowder  along  the  street, 
which,  except  for  the  petty  shrieks  and  laughter  of 
a  few  children,  was  just  before  so  quiet.  Forth  out 
of  every  window  in  those  dusky,  mean  wooden 
houses  were  thrust  heads  of  women  old  and  young ; 
forth  out  of  every  door  and  other  avenue,  and  as  if 
they  started  up  from  the  middle  of  the  street,  or  out 
of  the  unpaved  sidewalks,  rushed  fierce  avenging 
forms,  threatening  at  full  yell  to  take  vengeance  on 
the  grim  Doctor ;  who  still,  with  that  fierce  dark  face 
of  his, —  his  muddy  beard  all  flying  abroad,  dirty  and 
foul,  his  hat  fallen  off,  his  red  eyes  flashing  fire,  — 
was  belaboring  the  poor  hinder  end  of  the  unhappy 
urchin,  paying  off  upon  that  one  part  of  the  boy's 
frame  the  whole  score  which  he  had  to  settle  with 
the  rude  boys  of  the  town ;  giving  him  at  once  the 
whole  whipping  which  he  had  deserved  every  day 
of  his  life,  and  not  a  stroke  of  which  he  had  yet  re- 
ceived. Need  enough  there  was,  no  doubt,  that  some- 
body should  interfere  with  such  grim  and  immitiga- 
ble justice ;  and  certainly  the  interference  was  prompt, 
and  promised  to  be  effectual. 

"  Down  with  the  old  tyrant !  Thrash  him !  Hang 
him!  Tar  and  feather  the  viper's  fry !  the  wizard ! 
the  body-snatcher ! "  bellowed  the  mob,  one  member 
of  which  was  raving  with  delirium  tremens,  and  an- 
other was  a  madman  just  escaped  from  bedlam. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  55 

It  is  unaccountable  where  all  this  mischievous, 
bloodthirsty  multitude  came  from, — how  they  were 
born  into  that  quietness  in  such  a  moment  of  time  ! 
What  had  they  been  about  heretofore  ?  Were  they 
waiting  in  readiness  for  this  crisis,  and  keeping  them- 
selves free  from  other  employment  till  it  should  come 
to  pass  ?  Had  they  been  created  for  the  moment,  or 
were  they  fiends  sent  by  Satan  in  the  likeness  of  a 
blackguard  population  ?  There  you  might  see  the 
offscourings  of  the  recently  finished  war,  —  old  sol- 
diers, rusty,  wooden-legged :  there,  sailors,  ripe  for 
any  kind  of  mischief;  there,  the  drunken  population 
of  a  neighboring  grogshop,  staggering  helter-skelter  to 
the  scene,  and  tumbling  over  one  another  at  the  Doc- 
tor's feet.  There  came  the  father  of  the  punished 
urchin,  who  had  never  shown  heretofore  any  care  for 
his  street-bred  progeny,  but  who  now  came  pale  with 
rage,  armed  with  a  pair  of  tongs ;  and  with  him  the 
mother,  flying  like  a  fury,  with  her  cap  awry,  and 
clutching  a  broomstick,  as  if  she  were  a  witch  just 
alighted.  Up  they  rushed  from  cellar  doors,  and 
dropped  down  from  chamber  windows ;  all  rushing 
upon  the  Doctor,  but  overturning  and  thwarting  them- 
selves by  their  very  multitude.  For,  as  good  Doc- 
tor Grim  levelled  the  first  that  came  within  reach  of 
his  fist,  two  or  three  of  the  others  tumbled  over  him 
and  lay  grovelling  at  his  feet ;  the  Doctor  meanwhile 
having  retreated  into  the  angle  between  two  houses. 
Little  Ned,  with  a  valor  which  did  him  the  more 
credit  inasmuch  as  it  was  exercised  in  spite  of  a  good 


56  DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S   SECRET. 

deal  of  childish  trepidation,  as  his  pale  face  indicated, 
brandished  his  fists  by  the  Doctor's  side ;  and  little 
Elsie  did  what  any  woman  may,  —  that  is,  screeched 
in  Doctor  Grim's  behalf  with  full  stretch  of  lungs. 
Meanwhile  the  street  boys  kept  up  a  shower  of  mud 
balls,  many  of  which  hit  the  Doctor,  while  the  rest 
were  distributed  upon  his  assailants,  heightening  their 
ferocity. 

"  Seize  the  old  scoundrel !  the  villain  !  the  Tory  ! 
the  dastardly  Englishman  !  Hang  him  in  the  web  of 
his  own  devilish  spider, —  't  is  long  enough  ! "  Tar  and 
feather  him  !  tar  and  feather  him  ! " 

It  was  certainly  one  of  those  crises  that  show  a 
man  how  few  real  friends  he  has,  and  the  tendency  of 
mankind  to  stand  aside,  at  least,  and  let  a  poor  devil 
fight  his  own  troubles,  if  not  assist  them  in  their  at- 
tack. Here  you  might  have  seen  a  brother  physician 
of  the  grim  Doctor's  greatly  tickled  at  his  plight :  or 
a  decorous,  powdered,  ruffle-shirted  dignitary,  one  of 
the  weighty  men  of  the  town,  standing  at  a  neighbor's 
corner  to  see  what  would  come  of  it. 

"  He  is  not  a  respectable  man,  I  understand,  this 
Grimshawe,  —  a  quack,  intemperate,  always  in  these 
scuffles  :  let  him  get  out  as  he  may  ! " 

And  then  comes  a  deacon  of  one  of  the  churches, 
and  several  church-members,  who,  hearing  a  noise,  set 
out  gravely  and  decorously  to  see  what  was  going  for- 
ward in  a  Christian  community. 

"  Ah  !  it  is  that  irreligious  and  profane  Grimshawe, 
who  never  goes  to  meeting.  We  wash  our  hands  of 
him!" 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.  57 

And  one  of  the  selectmen  said,  — 

"  Surely  this  common  brawler  ought  not  to  have 
the  care  of  these  nice,  sweet  children ;  something 
must  be  done  about  it ;  and  when  the  man  is  sober, 
he  must  be  talked  to  ! " 

Alas !  it  is  a  hard  case  with  a  man  who  lives  upon 
his  own  bottom  and  responsibility,  making  himself 
no  allies,  sewing  himself  on  to  nobody's  skirts,  insu- 
lating himself,  —  hard,  when  his  trouble  comes ;  and 
so  poor  Doctor  Grimshawe  was  like  to  find  it. 

He  had  succeeded  by  dint  of  good  skill,  and  some 
previous  practice  at  quarter-staff,  in  keeping  his  as- 
sailants at  bay,  though  not  without  some  danger  on 
his  own  part ;  but  their  number,  their  fierceness,  and 
the  more  skilled  assault  of  some  among  them  must 
almost  immediately  have  been  successful,  when  the 
Doctor's  part  was  strengthened  by  an  unexpected  ally. 
This  was  a  person2  of  tall,  slight  figure,  who,  without 
lifting  his  hands  to  take  part  in  the  conflict,  thrust 
himself  before  the  Doctor,  and  turned  towards  the  as- 
sailants, crying,  — 

"  Christian  men,  what  would  you  do  ?  Peace,  — 
peace ! " 

His  so  well  intended  exhortation  took  effect,  in- 
deed, in  a  certain  way,  but  not  precisely  as  might 
have  been  wished :  for  a  blow,  aimed  at  Doctor  Grim, 
took  effect  on  the  head  of  this  man,  who  seemed  to 
have  no  sort  of  skill  or  alacrity  at  defending  himself, 
any  more  than  at  making  an  assault ;  for  he  never 
lifted  his  hands,  but  took  the  blow  as  unresistingly  as 


58          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

if  it  had  been  kindly  meant,  and  it  levelled  him 
senseless  on  the  ground. 

Had  the  mob  really  been  enraged  for  any  strenuous 
cause,  this  incident  would  have  operated  merely  as  a 
preliminary  whet  to  stimulate  them  to  further  blood- 
shed. But,  as  they  were  mostly  actuated  only  by  a 
natural  desire  for  mischief,  they  were  about  as  well 
satisfied  with  what  had  been  done  as  if  the  Doctor 
himself  were  the  victim.  And  besides,  the  fathers  and 
respectabilities  of  the  town,  who  had  seen  this  mis- 
hap from  afar,  now  began  to  put  forward,  crying  out, 
"  Keep  the  peace  !  keep  the  peace !  A  riot !  a  riot!" 
and  other  such  cries  as  suited  the  emergency;  and 
the  crowd  vanished  more  speedily  than  it  had  congre- 
gated, leaving  the  Doctor  and  the  two  children  alone 
beside  the  fallen  victim  of  a  quarrel  not  his  own. 
Not  to  dwell  too  long  on  this  incident,  the  Doctor, 
laying  hold  of  the  last  of  his  enemies,  after  the  rest 
had  taken  to  their  heels,  ordered  him  sternly  to  stay 
and  help  him  bear  the  man,  whom  he  had  helped  to 
murder,  to  his  house. 

"  It  concerns  you,  friend ;  for,  if  he  dies,  you  hang 
to  a  dead  certainty  ! " 

And  this  was  done  accordingly. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          59 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ABOUT  an  hour  thereafter  there  lay  on  a  couch  that 
had  been  hastily  prepared  in  the  study  a  person  of 
singularly  impressive  presence :  a  thin,  mild-looking 
man,  with  a  peculiar  look  of  delicacy  and  natural 
refinement  about  him,  although  he  scarcely  appeared 
to  be  technically  and  as  to  worldly  position  what  we 
call  a  gentleman ;  plain  in  dress  and  simple  in  man- 
ner, not  giving  the  idea  of  remarkable  intellectual 
gifts,  but  with  a  kind  of  spiritual  aspect,  fair,  clear 
complexion,  gentle  eyes,  still  somewhat  clouded  and 
obscured  by  the  syncope  into  which  a  blow  on  the 
head  had  thrown  him.  He  looked  middle-aged,  and 
yet  there  was  a  kind  of  childlike,  simple  expression, 
which,  unless  you  looked  at  him  with  the  very  pur- 
pose of  seeing  the  traces  of  time  in  his  face,  would 
make  you  suppose  him  much  younger. 

"  And  how  do  you  find  yourself  now,  my  good  fel- 
low ? "  asked  Doctor  Grimshawe,  putting  forth  his 
hand  to  grasp  that  of  the  stranger,  and  giving  it 
a  good,  warm  shake.  "None  the  worse,  I  should 
hope?"1 

"Not  much  the  worse,"  answered  the  stranger: 
"  not  at  all,  it  may  be.  There  is  a  pleasant  dimness 
and  uncertainty  in  my  mode  of  being.  I  am  taken 


60  DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

off  my  feet,  as  it  were,  arid  float  in  air,  with  a  faint 
delight  in  my  sensations.  The  grossness,  the  rough- 
ness, the  too  great  angularity  of  the  actual,  is  removed 
from  rne.  It  is  a  state  that  I  like  well.  It  may  be, 
this  is  the  way  that  the  dead  feel  when  they  awake 
in  another  state  of  being,  with  a  dim  pleasure,  after 
passing  through  the  brief  darkness  of  death.  It  is 
very  pleasant." 

He  answered  dreamily,  and  sluggishly,  reluctantly, 
as  if  there  were  a  sense  of  repose  in  him  which  he  dis- 
liked to  break  by  putting  any  of  his  sensations  into 
words.  His  voice  had  a  remarkable  sweetness  and 
gentleness,  though  lacking  in  depth  of  melody. 

"  Here,  take  this,"  said  the  Doctor,  who  had  been 
preparing  some  kind  of  potion  in  a  teaspoon :  it  may 
have  been  a  dose  of  his  famous  preparation  of  spider's 
web,  for  aught  I  know,  the  operation  of  which  was 
said  to  be  of  a  soothing  influence,  causing  a  delightful 
silkiness  of  sensation ;  but  I  know  not  whether  it 
was  considered  good  for  concussions  of  the  brain, 
such  as  it  is  to  be  supposed  the  present  patient  had 
undergone.  "Take  this:  it  will  do  you  good;  and 
here  I  drink  your  very  good  health  in  something  that 
will  do  me  good." 

So  saying,  the  grim  Doctor  quaffed  off  a  tumbler 
of  brandy  and  water. 

"How  sweet  a  contrast,"  murmured  the  stranger, 
"  between  that  scene  of  violence  and  this  great  peace 
that  has  come  over  me !  It  is  as  when  one  can  say 
I  have  fought  the  good  fight." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.          61 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  what  would 
have  been  one  of  his  deep  laughs,  but  which  he  modi- 
fied in  consideration  of  his  patient's  tenderness  of 
brain.  "We  both  of  us  fought  a  good  fight;  for 
though  you  struck  no  actual  stroke,  you  took  them 
as  unflinchingly  as  ever  I  saw  a  man,  and  so  turned 
the  fortune  of  the  battle  better  than  if  you  smote 
with  a  sledge-hammer.  Two  things  puzzle  me  in  the 
affair.  First,  whence  came  my  assailants,  all  in  that 
moment  of  time,  unless  Satan  let  loose  out  of  the  in- 
fernal regions  a  synod  of  fiends,  hoping  thus  to  get  a 
triumph  over  me.  And  secondly,  whence  came  you, 
my  preserver,  unless  you  are  an  angel,  and  dropped 
down  from  the  sky." 

"  No,"  answered  the  stranger,  with  quiet  simplicity. 
"  I  was  passing  through  the  street  to  my  little  school, 
when  I  saw  your  peril,  and  felt  it  my  duty  to  expos- 
tulate with  the  people." 

"  Well,"  said  the  grim  Doctor,  "  come  whence  you 
will,  you  did  an  angel's  office  for  me,  and  I  shall  do 
what  an  earthly  man  may  to  requite  it.  There,  we 
will  talk  no  more  for  the  present." 

He  hushed  up  the  children,  who  were  already,  of 
their  own  accord,  walking  on  tiptoe  and  whispering, 
and  he  himself  even  went  so  far  as  to  refrain  from 
the  usual  incense  of  his  pipe,  having  observed  that 
the  stranger,  who  seemed  to  be  of  a  very  delicate  or- 
ganization, had  seemed  sensible  of  the  disagreeable 
effect  on  the  atmosphere  of  the  room.  The  restraint 
lasted,  however,  only  till  (in  the  course  of  the  day) 


62          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

crusty  Hannah  had  fitted  up  a  little  bedroom  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  entry,  to  which  she  and  the  grim 
Doctor  moved  the  stranger,  who,  though  tall,  they 
observed  was  of  no  great  weight  and  substance, —  the 
lightest  man,  the  Doctor  averred,  for  his  size,  that 
ever  he  had  handled. 

Every  possible  care  was  taken  of  him,  and  in  a 
day  or  two  he  was  able  to  walk  into  the  study  again, 
where  he  sat  gazing  at  the  sordidness  and  unneatness 
of  the  apartment,  the  strange  festoons  and  drapery  of 
spiders'  webs,  the  gigantic  spider  himself,  and  at  the 
grim  Doctor,  so  shaggy,  grizzly,  and  uncouth,  in  the 
midst  of  these  surroundings,  with  a  perceptible  sense 
of  something  very  strange  in  it  all.  His  mild,  gentle 
regard  dwelt  too  on  the  two  beautiful  children,  evi- 
dently with  a  sense  of  quiet  wonder  how  they  should 
be  here,  and  altogether  a  sense  of  their  unfitness ; 
they,  meanwhile,  stood  a  little  apart,  looking  at  him, 
somewhat  disturbed  and  awed,  as  children  usually 
are,  by  a  sense  that  the  stranger  was  not  perfectly 
well,  that  he  had  been  injured,  and  so  set  apart  from 
the  rest  of  the  world. 

"  Will  you  come  to  me,  little  one  ? "  said  he,  hold- 
ing out  a  delicate  hand  to  Elsie. 

Elsie  came  to  his  side  without  any  hesitation, 
though  without  any  of  the  rush  that  accompanied 
her  advent  to  those  whom  she  affected.  "And  you, 
my  little  man,"  added  the  stranger,  quietly,  and  look- 
ing to  Ned,  who  likewise  willingly  approached,  and, 
shaking  him  by  the  offered,  hand,  let  it  go  again,  but 
continued  standing  by  his  side. 


DOCTOR   GRfMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  63 

"  Do  you  know,  my  little  friends,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  that  it  is  my  business  in  life  to  instruct  such  little 
people  as  you  ?" 

"  Do  they  obey  you  well,  sir  ? "  asked  Ned,  perhaps 
conscious  of  a  want  of  force  in  the  person  whom  he 
addressed. 

The  stranger  smiled  faintly.  "  Not  too  well,"  said 
he.  "  That  has  been  my  difficulty ;  for  I  have  moral 
and  religious  objections,  and  also  a  great  horror,  to 
the'  use  of  the  rod,  and  I  have  not  been  gifted  with  a 
harsh  voice  and  a  stern  brow ;  so  that,  after  a  while, 
my  little  people  sometimes  get  the  better  of  me.  The 
present  generation  of  men  is  too  gross  for  gentle 
treatment." 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  quoth  Doctor  Grimshawe, 
who  had  been  observing  this  little  scene,  and  trying 
to  make  out,  from  the  mutual  deportment  of  the 
stranger  and  the  two  children,  what  sort  of  man  this 
fair,  quiet  stranger  was,  with  his  gentleness  and  weak- 
ness, —  characteristics  that  were  not  attractive  to  him- 
self, yet  in  which  he  acknowledged,  as  he  saw  them 
here,  a  certain  charm  ;  nor  did  he  know,  scarcely, 
whether  to  despise  the  one  in  whom  he  saw  them, 
or  to  yield  to  a  strange  sense  of  reverence.  So  he 
watched  the  children,  with  an  indistinct  idea  of  being 
guided  by  them.  "  You  are  quite  right :  the  world 
now  —  and  always  before,  as  far  as  I  ever  heard  — 
requires  a  great  deal  of  brute  force,  a  great  deal  of 
animal  food  and  brandy  in  the  man  that  is  to  make 
an  impression  on  it." 


64          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

The  convalescence  of  the  stranger  —  he  gave  his 
name  as  Colcord  —  proceeded  favorably  ;  for  the  Doc- 
tor remarked  that,  delicate  as  his  system  was,  it  had 
a  certain  purity,  —  a  simple  healthfulness  that  did 
not  run  into  disease  as  stronger  constitutions  might. 
It  did  not  apparently  require  much  to  crush  down 
such  a  being  as  this,  —  not  much  unkindly  breath  to 
blow  out  the  taper  of  his  life,  —  and  yet,  if  not  abso- 
lutely killed,  there  was  a  certain  aptness  to  keep  alive 
in  him  not  readily  to  be  overcome. 

No  sooner  was  he  in  a  condition  so  to  do,  than  he 
went  forth  to  look  after  the  little  school  that  he  had 
spoken  of,  but  soon  came  back,  announcing  in  a  very 
quiet  and  undisturbed  way  that,  during  his  withdrawal 
from  duty,  the  scholars  had  been  distributed  to  other 
instructors,  and  consequently  he  was  without  place 
or  occupation.2 

"A  hard  case,"  said  the  Doctor,  flinging  a  gruff 
curse  at  those  who  had  so  readily  deserted  the  poor 
schoolmaster. 

"Not  so  hard,"  replied  Colcord.  "These  little  fel- 
lows are  an  unruly  set,  born  of  parents  who  have  led 
rough  lives,  —  here  in  battle  time,  too,  with  the  spirit 
of  battle  in  them,  —  therefore  rude  and  contentious 
beyond  my  power  to  cope  with  them.  I  have  been 
taught,  long  ago,"  he  added,  with  a  peaceful  smile, 
"  that  my  business  in  life  does  not  lie  with  grown-up 
and  consolidated  men  and  women ;  and  so,  not  to  be 
useless  in  my  day,  and  to  gain  the  little  that  my  sus- 
tenance requires,  I  have  thought  to  deal  with  chil- 
dren. But  even  for  this  I  lack  force." 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  65 

"I  dare  say,"  said  the  Doctor,  with  a  modified 
laugh.  "Little  devils  they  are,  harder  to  deal  with 
than  men.  Well,  I  am  glad  of  your  failure  for  one 
reason,  and  of  your  being  thrown  out  of  business  ;  be- 
cause we  shall  have  the  benefit  of  you  the  longer. 
Here  is  this  boy  to  be  instructed.  I  have  made  some 
attempts  myself ;  but  having  no  art  of  instructing,  no 
skill,  no  temper  I  suppose,  I  make  but  an  indifferent 
hand  at  it :  and  besides  I  have  other  business  that 
occupies  my  thoughts.  Take  him  in  hand,  if  you  like, 
and  the  girl  for  company.  No  matter  whether  you 
teach  her  anything,  unless  you  happen  to  be  acquaint- 
ed with  needlework;' 

"  I  will  talk  with  the  children,"  said  Colcord,  "  and 
see  if  I  am  likely  to  do  good  with  them.  The  lad,  I 
see,  has  a  singular  spirit  of  aspiration  and  pride,  —  no 
ungentle  pride,  —  but  still  hard  to  cope  with.  I  will 
see.  The  little  girl  is  a  most  comfortable  child." 

"  You  have  read  the  boy  as  if  you  had  his  heart  in 
your  hand,"  said  the  Doctor,  rather  surprised.  "  I 
could  not  have  done  it  better  myself,  though  I  have 
known  him  all  but  from  the  egg." 

Accordingly,  the  stranger,  who  had  been  thrust  so 
providentially  into  this  odd  and  insulated  little  com- 
munity, abode  with  them,  without  more  words  being 
spoken  on  the  subject :  for  it  seemed  to  all  concerned 
a  natural  arrangement,  although,  on  both  parts,  they 
were  mutually  sensible  of  something  strange  in  the 
companionship  thus  brought  about.  To  say  the  truth, 
it  was  not  easy  to  imagine  two  persons  apparently 
5 


66          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

less  adapted  to  each  other's  society  than  the  rough, 
uncouth,  animal  Doctor,  whose  faith  was  in  his  own 
right  arm,  so  full  of  the  old  Adam  as  he  was,  so  stur- 
dily a  hater,  so  hotly  impulsive,  so  deep,  subtle,  and 
crooked,  so  obstructed  by  his  animal  nature,  so  given 
to  his  pipe  and  black  bottle,  so  wrathful  and  pugna- 
cious and  wicked,  —  and  this  mild  spiritual  creature, 
so  milky,  with  so  untbrceful  a  grasp  ;  and  it  was  sin- 
gular to  see  how  they  stood  apart  and  eyed  each  other, 
each  tacitly  acknowledging  a  certain  merit  and  kind 
of  power,  though  not  well  able  to  appreciate  its  value. 
The  grim  Doctor's  kindness,  however,  and  gratitude, 
had  been  so  thoroughly  awakened,  that  he  did  not 
feel  the  disgust  that  he  probably  otherwise  might  at 
what  seemed  the  mawkishness  of  Colcord's  charac- 
ter ;  his  want,  morally  speaking,  of  bone  and  muscle  ; 
his  fastidiousness  of  character,  the  essence  of  which 
it  seemed  to  be  to  bear  no  stain  upon  it ;  otherwise 
it  must  die. 

On  Colcord's  part  there  was  a  good  deal  of  evi- 
dence to  be  detected,  by  a  nice  observer,  that  he  found 
it  difficult  to  put  up  with  the  Doctor's  coarse  pecu- 
liarities, whether  physical  or  moral  His  animal  in- 
dulgences of  appetite  struck  him  with  wonder  and 
horror ;  his  coarse  expressions,  his  free  indulgence  of 
wrath,  his  sordid  and  unclean  habits ;  the  dust,  the 
cobwebs,  the  monster  that  dangled  from  the  ceiling ; 
his  pipe,  diffusing  its  fragrance  through  the  house,  and 
showing,  by  the  plainest  and  simplest  proof,  how  we 
all  breathe  one  another's  breath,  nice  and  proud  as  we 


DOCTOR   GR1MS1IAWRS  SECRET.  67 

may  be,  kings  and  daintiest  ladies  breathing  the  air 
that  has  already  served  to  inflate  a  beggar's  lungs. 
He  shrank,  too,  from  the  rude  manhood  of  the  Doc- 
tor's character,  with  its  human  warmth,  —  an  element 
which  he  seemed  not  to  possess  in  his  own  character. 
He  was  capable  only  of  gentle  and  mild  regard,  —  that 
was  his  warmest  affection ;  and  the  warmest,  too,  tha,t 
he  was  capable  of  exciting  in  others.  So  that  he  was 
doomed  as  much  apparently  as  the  Doctor  himself  to 
be  a  lonely  creature,  without  any  very  deep  com- 
panionship in  the  world,  though  not  incapable,  when 
he,  by  some  rare  chance,  met  a  soul  distantly  akin,  of 
holding  a  certain  high  spiritual  communion.  With 
the  children,  however,  he  succeeded  in  establishing 
some  good  and  available  relations  ;  his  simple  and 
passionless  character  coincided  with  their  simplicity, 
and  their  as  yet  unawakened  passions  :  they  appeared 
to  understand  him  better  than  the  Doctor  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  doing.  He  touched  springs  and  elements 
in  the  nature  of  both  that  had  never  been  touched  till 
now,  and  that  sometimes  made  a  sweet,  high  music. 
But  this  was  rarely  ;  and  as  far  as  the  general  duties 
of  an  instructor  went,  they  did  not  seem  to  be  very 
successfully  performed.  Something  was  cultivated  ; 
the  spiritual  germ  grew,  it  might  be ;  but  the  chil- 
dren, and  especially  Ned,  were  intuitively  conscious 
of  a  certain  want  of  substance  in  the  instructor,  —  a 
something  of  earthly  bulk ;  a  too  etherealness.  But 
his  connection  with  our  story  does  not  lie  in  any  ex- 
cellence, or  lack  of  excellence,  that  he  showed  as  an 


68          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

instructor,  and  we  merely  mention  these  things  as 
illustrating  more  or  less  his  characteristics. 

The  grim  Doctor's  curiosity  was  somewhat  piqued 
by  what  he  could  see  of  the  schoolmaster's  character, 
and  he  was  desirous  of  finding  out  what  sort  of  a  life 
such  a  man  could  have  led  in  a  world  which  he  him- 
self had  found  so  rough  a  one ;  through  what  difficul- 
ties he  had  reached  middle  age  without  absolutely 
vanishing  away  in  his  contact  with  more  positive  sub- 
stances than  himself;  how  the  world  had  given  him 
a  subsistence,  if  indeed  he  recognized  anything  more 
dense  than  fragrance,  like  a  certain  people  whom 
Pliny  mentioned  in  Africa,  —  a  point,  in  fact,  which 
the  grim  Doctor  denied,  his  performance  at  table 
being  inappreciable,  and  confined,  at  least  almost  en- 
tirely, to  a  dish  of  boiled  rice,  which  crusty  Hannah 
set  before  him,  preparing  it,  it  might  be,  with  a  sym- 
pathy of  her  East  Indian  part  towards  him. 

Well,  Doctor  Grimshawe  easily  got  at  what  seemed 
to  be  all  of  the  facts  of  Colcord's  life ;  how  that  he 
was  a  New-Englander,  the  descendant  of  an  ancient 
race  of  settlers,  the  last  of  them ;  for,  once  pretty 
numerous  in  their  quarter  of  the  country,  they  seemed 
to  have  been  dying  out,  —  exhaling  from  the  earth, 
and  passing  to  some  other  region. 

"No  wonder,"  said  the  Doctor  bluffly.  "You  have 
been  letting  slip  the  vital  principle,  if  you  are  a  fair 
specimen  of  the  race.  You  do  not  clothe  yourself  in 
substance.  Your  souls  are  not  coated  sufficiently. 
Beef  and  brandy  would  have  saved  you.  You  have 
exhaled  for  lack  of  them." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  69 

The  schoolmaster  shook  his  head,  and  probably 
thought  his  earthly  salvation  and  sustenance  not 
worth  buying  at  such  a  cost.  The  remainder  of  his 
history  was  not  tangible  enough  to  afford  a  narrative. 
There  seemed,  from  what  he  said,  to  have  always  been 
a  certain  kind  of  refinement  in  his  race,  a  nicety  of 
conscience,  a  nicety  of  habit,  which  either  was  in  itself 
a  want  of  force,  or  was  necessarily  connected  witli  it, 
and  which,  the  Doctor  silently  thought,  had  culmi- 
nated in  the  person  before  him. 

"  It  was  always  in  us,"  continued  Colcord,  with  a 
certain  pride  which  people  generally  feel  in  their  an- 
cestral characteristics,  be  they  good  or  evil.  "  We 
had  a  tradition  among  us  of  our  first  emigrant,  and 
the  causes  that  brought  him  to  the  New  World ;  and 
it  was  said  that  he  had  suffered  so  much,  before  quit- 
ting his  native  shores,  so  painful  had  been  his  track, 
that  always  afterwards  on  the  forest  leaves  of  this  land 
his  foot  left  a  print  of  blood  wherever  he  trod."  5 


70          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 


CHAPTEE  VII. 

"  A  PKINT  of  blood ! "  said  the  grim  Doctor,  breaking 
his  pipe-stem  by  some  sudden  spasm  in  his  gripe  of 
it.  "  Pooh  !  the  devil  take  the  pipe  !  A  very  strange 
story  that !  Pray  how  was  it  ? "  l 

"  Nay,  it  is  but  a  very  dim  legend,"  answered  the 
schoolmaster :  "  although  there  are  old  yellow  papers 
and  parchments,  I  remember,  in  my  father's  posses- 
sion, that  had  some  reference  to  this  man,  too,  though 
there  was  nothing  in  them  about  the  bloody  footprints. 
But  our  family  legend  is,  that  this  man  was  of  a  good 
race,  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  First,  originally  Pa- 
pists, but  one  of  them  —  the  second  son,  our  legend 
says  —  was  of  a  milder,  sweeter  cast  than  the  rest, 
who  were  fierce  and  bloody  men,  of  a  hard,  strong 
nature ;  but  he  partook  most  of  his  mother's  charac- 
ter. This  son  had  been  one  of  the  earliest  Quakers, 
converted  by  George  Fox;  and  moreover  there  had 
been  love  between  him  and  a  young  lady  of  great 
beauty  and  an  heiress,  whom  likewise  the  eldest  son 
of  the  house  had  designed  to  make  his  wife.  And 
these  brothers,  cruel  men,  caught  their  innocent 
brother  and  kept  him  in  confinement  long  in  his  own 
native  home  —  " 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.  71 

"How?"  asked  the  Doctor.  "Why  did  not  he 
appeal  to  the  laws  ? " 

"  Our  legend  says,"  replied  the  schoolmaster,  "  only 
that  he  was  kepfc  in  a  chamber  that  was  forgotten."  2 

"  Very  strange  that ! "  quoth  the  Doctor.  "  He  was 
sold  by  his  brethren." 

The  schoolmaster  went  on  to  tell,  with  much  shud- 
dering, how  a  Jesuit  priest  had  been  mixed  up  with 
this  wretched  business,  and  there  had  been  a  scheme 
at  once  religious  and  political  to  wrest  the  estate  and 
the  lovely  lady  from  the  fortunate  heir ;  arid  how  this 
grim  Italian  priest  had  instigated  them  to  use  a 
certain  kind  of  torture  with  the  poor  heir,  and  how 
he  had  suffered  from  this ;  but  one  night,  when  they 
left  him  senseless,  he  contrived  to  make  his  escape 
from  that  cruel  home,  bleeding  as  he  went ;  and  how, 
by  some  action  of  his  imagination,  —  his  sense  of  the 
cruelty  and  hideousness  of  such  treatment  at  his 
brethren's  hands,  and  in  the  holy  name  of  his  reli- 
gion, —  his  foot,  which  had  been  crushed  by  their 
cruelty,  bled  as  he  went,  and  that  blood  had  never 
been  stanched.  And  thus  he  had  come  to  America, 
and  after  many  wanderings,  and  much  track  of  blood 
along  rough  ways,  to  New  England.3 

"  And  what  became  of  his  beloved  ? "  asked  the 
grim  Doctor,  who  was  puffing  away  at  a  fresh  pipe 
with  a  very  queer  aspect. 

"  She  died  in  England,"  replied  the  schoolmaster. 
"  And  before  her  death,  by  some  means  or  other,  they 
say  that  she  found  means  to  send  him  a  child,  the 


72  DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

offspring  of  their  marriage,  and  from  that  child  our 
race  descended.  And  they  say,  too,  that  she  sent  him 
a  key  to  a  coffin,  in  which  was  locked  up  a  great  treas- 
ure. But  we  have  not  the  key.  But  he  never  went 
back  to  his  own  country  ;  and  being  heart-broken, 
and  sick  and  weary  of  the  world  and  its  pomps  and 
vanities,  he  died  here,  after  suffering  much  persecu- 
tion likewise  from  the  Puritans.  For  his  peaceful 
religion  was  accepted  nowhere." 

"  Of  all  legends,  —  all  foolish  legends,"  quoth  the 
Doctor,  wrathfully,  with  a  face  of  a  dark  blood-red 
color,  so  much  was  his  anger  and  contempt  excited, 
"  and  of  all  absurd  heroes  of  a  legend,  I  never  heard 
the  like  of  this  !  Have  you  the  key  ? " 

"  No :  nor  have  I  ever  heard  of  it,"  answered  the 
schoolmaster. 

"  But  you  have  some  papers  ? " 

"  They  existed  once :  perhaps  are  still  recoverable 
by  search,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "  My  father  knew 
of  them." 

"  A  foolish  legend,"  reiterated  the  Doctor.  "  It  is 
strange  how  human  folly  strings  itself  on  to  human 
folly,  as  a  story  originally  false  and  foolish  grows 
older" 

He  got  up  and  walked  about  the  room,  with  hasty 
and  irregular  strides  and  a  prodigious  swinging  of  his 
ragged  dressing-gown,  which  swept  away  as  many 
cobwebs  as  it  would  take  a  week  to  reproduce.  After 
a  few  turns,  as  if  to  change  the  subject,  the  Doctor 
asked  the  schoolmaster  if  he  had  any  taste  for  pic- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  73 

tures,  and  drew  his  attention  to  the  portrait  which 
has  been  already  mentioned,  —  the  figure  in  antique 
sordid  garb,  with  a  halter  round  his  neck,  and  the 
expression  in  his  face  which  the  Doctor  and  the  two 
children  had  interpreted  so  differently.  Colcord,  who 
probably  knew  nothing  about  pictures,  looked  at  it 
at  first  merely  from  the  gentle  and  cool  complaisance 
of  his  character ;  but  becoming  absorbed  in  the  con- 
templation, stood  long  without  speaking ;  until  the 
Doctor,  looking  in  his  face,  perceived  his  eyes  were 
streaming  with  tears. 

"  What  are  you  crying  about  ? "  said  he,  gruffly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  schoolmaster  quietly. 
"  But  there  is  something  in  this  picture  that  affects 
me  inexpressibly  ;  so  that,  not  being  a  man  passionate 
by  nature,  I  have  hardly  ever  been  so  moved  as  now!" 

"  Very  foolish,"  muttered  the  Doctor,  resuming  his 
strides  about  the  room.  "  I  am  ashamed  of  a  grown 
man  that  can  cry  at  a  picture,  and  can't  tell  the 
reason  why." 

After  a  few  more  turns  he  resumed  his  easy-chair 
and  his  tumbler,  and,  looking  upward,  beckoned  to 
his  pet  spider,  which  came  dangling  downward,  great 
parti-colored  monster  that  he  was,  and  swung  about 
his  master's  head  in  hideous  conference  as  it  seemed ; 
a  sight  that  so  distressed  the  schoolmaster,  or  shocked 
his  delicate  taste,  that  he  went  out,  and  called  the 
two  children  to  take  a  walk  with  him,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  breathing  air  that  was  neither  infected  with 
spiders  nor  graves. 


74  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

After  his  departure,  Doctor  Grimshawe  seemed 
even  more  disturbed  than  during  his  presence  :  again 
he  strode  about  the  study ;  then  sat  down  with  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  looking  straight  into  the  fire,  as 
if  it  imaged  the  seething  element  of  his  inner  man, 
where  burned  hot  projects,  smoke,  heat,  blackness, 
ashes,  a  smouldering  of  old  thoughts,  a  blazing  up 
of  new ;  casting  in  the  gold  of  his  mind,  as  Aaron 
did  that  of  the  Israelites,  and  waiting  to  see  what 
sort  of  a  thing  would  come  out  of  the  furnace.  The 
children  coining  in  from  their  play,  he  spoke  harshly 
to  them,  and  eyed  little  Ned  with  a  sort  of  savage- 
ness,  as  if  he  meant  to  eat  him  up,  or  do  some  other 
dreadful  deed :  and  when  little  Elsie  came  with  her 
usual  frankness  to  his  knee,  he  repelled  her  in  such 
a  way  that  she  shook  her  little  hand  at  him,  saying, 
"  Naughty  Doctor  Grim,  what  has  come  to  you  ? " 

Through  all  that  day,  by  some  subtle  means  or 
other,  the  whole  household  knew  that  something  was 
amiss;  and  nobody  in  it  was  comfortable.  It  was 
like  a  spell  of  weather ;  like  the  east  wind ;  like  an 
epidemic  in  the  air,  that  would  not  let  anything  be 
comfortable  or  contented,  —  this  pervading  temper  of 
the  Doctor.  Crusty  Hannah  knew  it  in  the  kitchen  : 
even  those  who  passed  the  house  must  have  known 
it  somehow  or  other,  and  have  felt  a  chill,  an  irrita- 
tion, an  influence  on  the  nerves,  as  they  passed.  The 
spiders  knew  it,  and  acted  as  they  were  wont  to  do 
in  stormy  weather.  The  schoolmaster,  when  he  re- 
turned from  his  walk,  seemed  likewise  to  know  it, 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          75 

and  made  himself  secure  and  secret,  keeping  in  his 
own  room,  except  at  dinner,  when  he  ate  his  rice  in 
silence,  without  looking  towards  the  Doctor,  and  ap- 
peared before  him  no  more  till  evening,  when  the 
grim  Doctor  summoned  him  into  the  study,  after 
sending  the  two  children  to  bed. 

"  Sir,"  began  the  Doctor,  "  you  have  spoken  of 
some  old  documents  in  your  possession  relating  to 
the  English  descent  of  your  ancestors.  I  have  a  cu- 
riosity to  see  these  documents.  Where  are  they  ? "  4 

"  I  have  them  about  my  person,"  said  the  school- 
master; and  he  produced  from  his  pocket  a  bundle 
of  old  yellow  papers  done  up  in  a  parchment  cover, 
tied  with  a  piece  of  white  cord,  and  presented  them 
to  Doctor  Grimshawe,  who  looked  over  them  with 
interest.  They  seemed  to  consist  of  letters,  genea- 
logical lists,  certified  copies  of  entries  in  registers, 
things  which  must  have  been  made  out  by  somebody 
who  knew  more  of  business  than  this  ethereal  person 
in  whose  possession  they  now  were.  The  Doctor 
looked  at  them  with  considerable  attention,  and  at 
last  did  them  hastily  up  in  the  bundle  again,  and 
returned  them  to  the  owner. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  what  is  now  the  condition  of 
the  family  to  whom  these  papers  refer  ? "  asked  he. 

"  None  whatever,  —  none  for  almost  a  hundred 
years,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "About  that  time 
ago,  I  have  heard  a  vague  story  that  one  of  my  an- 
cestors went  to  the  old  country  and  saw  the  place. 
But,  you  see,  the  change  of  name  has  effectually 


76  DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

covered  us  from  view ;  and  I  feel  that  our  true  name 
is  that  which  my  ancestor  assumed  when  he  was 
driven  forth  from  the  home  of  his  fathers,  and  that 
I  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  other.  I  have  no 
views  on  the  estate,  —  none  whatever.  I  am  not  so 
foolish  and  dreamy." 

"  Very  right,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Nothing  is  more 
foolish  than  to  follow  up  such  a  pursuit  as  this, 
against  all  the  vested  interests  of  two  hundred  years, 
which  of  themselves  have  built  up  an  impenetrably 
strong  allegation  against  you.  They  harden  into 
stone,  in  England,  these  years,  and  become  inde- 
structible, instead  of  melting  away  as  they  do  in 
this  happy  country." 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  of  interest  with  me,"  replied 
the  schoolmaster. 

"  Very  right,  —  very  right ! "  repeated  the  grim 
Doctor. 

But  something  was  evidently  amiss  with  him  this 
evening.  It  was  impossible  to  feel  easy  and  com- 
fortable in  contact  with  him :  if  you  looked  in  his 
face,  there  was  the  red,  lurid  glare  of  his  eyes  ;  meet- 
ing you  fiercely  and  craftily  as  ever :  sometimes  he 
bit  his  lip  and  frowned  in  an  awful  manner.  Once, 
he  burst  out  into  an  awful  fit  of  swearing,  for  no 
good  reason,  or  any  reason  whatever  that  he  ex- 
plained, or  that  anybody  could  tell.  Again,  for  no 
more  suitable  reason,  he  uplifted  his  stalwart  arm, 
and  smote  a  heavy  blow  with  his  fist  upon  the  oak 
table,  making  the  tumbler  and  black  bottle  leap  up, 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  77 

and  damaging,  one  would  think,  his  own  knuckles. 
Then  he  rose  up,  and  resumed  his  strides  about  the 
room.  He  paused  before  the  portrait  before  men- 
tioned; then  resumed  his  heavy,  quick,  irregular 
tread,  swearing  under  his  breath ;  and  you  would 
imagine,  from  what  you  heard,  that  all  his  thoughts 
and  the  movement  of  his  mind  were  a  blasphemy. 
Then  again  —  but  this  was  only  once  —  he  heaved 
a  deep,  ponderous  sigh,  that  seemed  to  come  up  in 
spite  of  him,  out  of  his  depths,  an  exhalation  of  deep 
suffering,  as  if  some  convulsion  had  given  it  a  pas- 
sage to  upper  air,  instead  of  its  being  hidden,  as  it 
generally  was,  by  accumulated  rubbish  of  later  time 
heaped  above  it. 

This  latter  sound  appealed  to  something  within 
the  simple  schoolmaster,  who  had  been  witnessing 
the  demeanor  of  the  Doctor,  like  a  being  looking 
from  another  sphere  into  the  trouble  of  the  mortal 
one;  a  being  incapable  of  passion,  observing  the 
mute,  hard  struggle  of  one  in  its  grasp. 

"  Friend,"  said  he  at  length,  "  thou  hast  something 
on  thy  mind." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  grim  Doctor,  coming  to  a  stand 
before  his  chair.  "  You  see  that  ?  Can  you  see  as 
well  what  it  is  ?  " 

"  Some  stir  and  writhe  of  something  in  the  past 
that  troubles  you,  as  if  you  had  kept  a  snake  for 
many  years  in  your  bosom,  and  stupefied  it  with 
brandy,  and  now  it  awakes  again,  and  troubles  you 
with  bites  and  stings." 


78  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"What  sort  of  a  man  do  you  think  me?"  asked 
the  Doctor. 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "  The  sym- 
pathies of  my  nature  are  not  those  that  should  give 
me  knowledge  of  such  men." 

"Am  I,  think  you,"  continued  the  grim  Doctor, 
"  a  man  capable  of  great  crime  ? " 

"  A  great  one,  if  any,"  said  Colcord ;  "  a  great 
good,  likewise,  it  might  be." 

"What  would  I  be  likely  to  do,"  asked  Doctor 
Grim,  "  supposing  I  had  a  darling  purpose,  to  the 
accomplishment  of  which  I  had  given  my  soul, — 
yes,  my  soul,  —  my  success  in  life,  my  days  and 
nights  of  thought,  my  years  of  time,  dwelling  upon 
it,  pledging  myself  to  it,  until  at  last  I  had  grown 
to  love  the  burden  of  it,  and  not  to  regret  my  own 
degradation  ?  I,  a  man  of  strongest  will.  What 
would  I  do,  if  this  were  to  be  resisted  ? " 

"  I  do  not  conceive  of  the  force  of  will  shaping  out 
my  ways,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "  I  walk  gently 
along  and  take  the  path  that  opens  before  me." 

<(  Ha !  ha !  ha ! "  shouted  the  grim  Doctor,  with  one 
of  his  portentous  laughs.  "  So  do  we  all,  in  spite  of 
ourselves  ;  and  sometimes  the  path  comes  to  a  sudden 
ending  !  "  And  he  resumed  his  drinking. 

The  schoolmaster  looked  at  him  with  wonder,  and 
a  kind  of  shuddering,  at  something  so  unlike  him- 
self ;  but  probably  he  very  imperfectly  estimated  the 
forces  that  were  at  work  within  this  strange  being, 
and  how  dangerous  they  made  him.  He  imputed 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          79 

it,  a  great  deal,  to  the  brandy,  which  he  had  kept 
drinking  in  such  inordinate  quantities  ;  whereas  it  is 
probable  that  this  had  a  soothing,  emollient  effect, 
as  far  as  it  went,  on  the  Doctor's  emotions ;  a  sort  of 
like  to  like,  that  he  instinctively  felt  to  be  a  remedy, 
But  in  truth  it  was  difficult  to  see  these  two  human 
creatures  together,  without  feeling  their  incompati- 
bility ;  without  having  a  sense  that  one  must  be  hos- 
tile to  the  other.  The  schoolmaster,  through  his  fine 
instincts,  doubtless  had  a  sense  of  this,  and  sat  gazing 
at  the  lurid,  wrathful  figure  of  the  Doctor,  in  a  sort 
of  trance  and  fascination :  not  able  to  stir ;  bewil- 
dered by  the  sight  of  the  great  spider  and  other  sur- 
roundings; and  this  strange,  uncouth  fiend,  who  had 
always  been  abhorrent  to  him,  —  he  had  a  kind  of 
curiosity  in  it,  waited  to  see  what  would  come  of  it, 
but  felt  it  to  be  an  unnatural  state  to  him.  And 
again  the  grim  Doctor  came  and  stood  before  him, 
prepared  to  make  another  of  those  strange  utterances 
with  which  he  had  already  so  perplexed  him. 

That  night — that  midnight  —  it  was  rumored 
through  the  town  that  one  of  the  inhabitants,  going 
home  late  along  the  street  that  led  by  the  graveyard, 
saw  the  grim  Doctor  standing  by  the  open  window  of 
the  study  behind  the  elm  tree,  in  his  old  dressing- 
gown,  chill  as  was  the  night,  and  flinging  his  arms 
abroad  wildly  into  the  darkness,  and  muttering  like 
the  growling  of  a  tempest,  with  occasional  vocifera- 
tions that  grew  even  shrill  with  passion.  The  listener, 
though  affrighted,  could  not  resist  an  impulse  to 


80  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

pause,  and  attempt  overhearing  something  that  might 
let  him  into  the  secret  counsels  of  this  strange  wild 
man,  whom  the  town  held  in  such  awe  and  antipathy ; 
to  learn,  perhaps,  what  was  the  great  spider,  and 
whether  he  were  summoning  the  dead  out  of  their 
graves.  However,  he  could  make  nothing  out  of  what 
he  overheard,  except  it  were  fragmentary  curses,  of  a 
dreadful  character,  which  the  Doctor  brought  up  writh 
might  and  main  out  of  the  depths  of  his  soul,  and 
flung  them  forth,  burning  hot,  aimed  at  what,  and 
why,  and  to  what  practical  end,  it  was  impossible  to 
say ;  but  as  necessarily  as  a  volcano,  in  a  state  of 
eruption,  sends  forth  boiling  lava,  sparkling  and  scin- 
tillating stones,  and  a  sulphurous  atmosphere,  indica- 
tive of  its  inward  state.5 

Dreading  lest  some  one  of  these  ponderous  anathe- 
mas should  alight,  reason  or  none,  on  his  own  head, 
the  man  crept  away,  and  whispered  the  thing  to  his 
cronies,  from  whom  it  was  communicated  to  the 
townspeople  at  large,  and  so  became  one  of  many 
stories  circulating  with  reference  to  our  grim  hero, 
which,  if  not  true  to  the  fact,  had  undoubtedly  a 
degree  of  appositeness  to  his  character,  of  which  they 
were  the  legitimate  nWers  and  symbols.  If  the 
anathemas  took  no  other  effect,  they  seemed  to  have 
produced  a  very  remarkable  one  on  the  unfortunate 
elm  tree,  through  the  naked  branches  of  which  the 
Doctor  discharged  this  fiendish  shot.  For,  the  next 
spring,  when  April  came,  no  tender  leaves  budded 
forth,  no  life  awakened  there ;  and  never  again,  on  that 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  81 

old  elm,  widely  as  its  roots  were  imbedded  among  the 
dead  of  many  years,  was  there  rustling  bough  in  the 
summer  time,  or  the  elm's  early  golden  boughs  in 
September;  and  after  waiting  till  another  spring  to 
give  it  a  fair  chance  of  reviving,  it  was  cut  down  and 
made  into  coffins,  and  burnt  on  the  sexton's  hearth. 
The  general  opinion  was  that  the  grim  Doctor's  aw- 
ful profanity  had  blasted  that  tree,  fostered,  as  it 
had  been,  on  grave-mould  of  Puritans.  In  Lanca- 
shire they  tell  of  a  similar  anathema.  It  had  a  very 
frightful  effect,  it  must  be  owned,  this  idea  of  a  man 
cherishing  emotions  in  his  breast  of  so  horrible  a 
nature  that  he  could  neither  tell  them  to  any  human 
being,  nor  keep  them  in  their  plenitude  and  intensity 
within  the  breast  where  they  had  their  germ,  and  so 
was  forced  to  fling  them  forth  upon  the  night,  to  pol- 
lute and  put  fear  into  the  atmosphere,  and  that  people 
should  breathe-in  somewhat  of  horror  from  an  un- 
known source,  and  be  affected  with  nightmare,  and 
dreams  in  which  they  were  startled  at  their  own 
wickedness. 


82          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTEK  VIII. 

AT  the  breakfast-table  the  next  morning,  however, 
appeared  Doctor  Grimshawe,  wearing  very  much  the 
same  aspect  of  an  uncombed,  unshorn,  unbrushed,  odd 
sort  of  a  pagan  as  at  other  times,  and  making  no 
difference  in  his  breakfast,  except  that  he  poured  a 
pretty  large  dose  of  brandy  into  his  cup  of  tea;  a 
thing,  however,  by  no  means  unexampled  or  very  un- 
usual in  his  history.  There  were  also  the  two  children, 
fresher  than  the  morning  itself,  rosy  creatures,  with 
newly  scrubbed  cheeks,  made  over  again  for  the  new 
day,  though  the  old  one  had  left  no  dust  upon  them  ; 1 
laughing  with  one  another,  flinging  their  little  jokes 
about  the  table,  and  expecting  that  the  Doctor  might, 
as  was  often  his  wont,  set  some  ponderous  old  English 
joke  trundling  round  among  the  breakfast  cups ;  eat- 
ing the  corn-cakes  which  crusty  Hannah,  with  the 
aboriginal  part  of  her,  had  a  knack  of  making  in  a 
peculiar  and  exquisite  fashion.  But  there  was  an 
empty  chair  at  table ;  one  cup,  one  little  jug  of  milk, 
and  another  of  pure  water,  with  no  guest  to  partake 
of  them. 

"  Where  is  the  schoolmaster  ? "  said  Ned,  pausing 
as  he  was  going  to  take  his  seat. 

"Yes,  Doctor  Grim?"  said  little  Elsie. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  83 

"  He  has  overslept  himself  for  once,"  quoth  Doctor 
Grim  gruffly ;  "  a  strange  thing,  too,  for  a  man  whose 
victuals  and  drink  are  so  light  as  the  schoolmaster's. 
The  fiend  take  me  if  I  thought  he  had  mortal  mould 
enough  in  him  ever  to  go  to  sleep  at  all ;  though  he 
is  but  a  kind  of  dream-stuff  in  his  widest-awake  state. 
Hannah,  you  bronze  jade,  call  the  schoolmaster  to 
come  to  breakfast." 

Hannah  departed  on  her  errand,  and  was  heard 
knocking  at  the  door  of  the  schoolmaster's  chamber 
several  times,  till  the  Doctor  shouted  to  her  wrath- 
fully  to  cease  her  clatter  and  open  the  door  at  once, 
which  she  appeared  to  do,  and  speedily  came  back. 

"He  no  there,  massa.    Schoolmaster  melted  away!" 

"  Vanished  like  a  bubble  ! "  quoth  the  Doctor. 

"The  great  spider  caught  him  like  a  fly,"  quoth 
crusty  Hannah,  chuckling  with  a  sense  of  mischief 
that  seemed  very  pleasant  to  her  strange  combina- 
tion. 

"  He  has  taken  a  morning  walk,"  said  little  Ned ; 
"  don't  you  think  so,  Doctor  Grim  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  grim  Doctor.  "  Go  on  with  your 
breakfast,  little  monkey;  the  walk  may  be  a  long  one, 
or  he  is  so  slight  a  weight  that  the  wind  may  blow 
him  overboard." 

A  very  long  walk  it  proved ;  or  it  might  be  that 
some  wind,  whether  evil  or  good,  had  blown  him, 
as  the  Doctor  suggested,  into  parts  unknown;  for, 
from  that  time  forth,  the  Yankee  schoolmaster  re- 
turned no  more.  It  was  a  singular  disappearance. 


84  DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

The  bed  did  not  appear  to  have  been  slept  in ;  there 
was  a  bundle,  in  a  clean  handkerchief,  containing 
two  shirts,  two  pocket  handkerchiefs,  two  pairs  of 
cotton  socks,  a  Testament,  and  that  was  all.  Had  he 
intended  to  go  away,  why  did  he  not  take  this  little 
luggage  in  his  hand,  being  all  he  had,  and  of  a  kind 
not  easily  dispensed  with  ?  Tne  Doctor  made  small 
question  about  it,  however;  he  had  seemed  sur- 
prised, at  first,  yet  gave  certainly  no  energetic  token 
of  it ;  and  when  Ned,  who  began  to  have  notions  of 
things,  proposed  to  advertise  him  in  the  newspapers, 
or  send  the  town  crier  round,  the  Doctor  ridiculed 
the  idea  unmercifully. 

"  Lost,  a  lank  Yankee  schoolmaster,"  quoth  he, 
uplifting  his  voice  after  the  manner  of  the  town 
crier ;  "  supposed  to  have  been  blown  out  of  Doctor 
Grim's  window,  or  perhaps  have  ridden  off  astride  of 
a  humble-bee." 

"  It  is  not  pretty  to  laugh  in  that  way,  Doctor 
Grim,"  said  little  Elsie,  looking  into  his  face,  with  a 
grave  shake  of  her  head. 

"  And  why  not,  you  saucy  little  witch  ? "  said  the 
Doctor. 

"It  is  not  the  way  to  laugh,  Doctor  Grim,"  per- 
sisted the  child,  but  either  could  not  or  would  not 
assign  any  reason  for  her  disapprobation,  although 
what  she  said  appeared  to  produce  a  noticeable  effect 
on  Doctor  Grimshawe,  who  lapsed  into  a  rough, 
harsh  manner,  that  seemed  to  satisfy  Elsie  better. 
Crusty  Hannah,  meanwhile,  seemed  to  dance  about 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          85 

the  house  with  a  certain  singular  alacrity,  a  wonder- 
ful friskiness,  indeed,  as  if  the  diabolical  result  of  the 
mixture  in  her  nature  was  particularly  pleased  with 
something;  so  she  went,  with  queer  gesticulations, 
crossings,  contortions,  friskings,  evidently  in  a  very 
mirthful  state;  until,  being  asked  by  her  master 
what  was  the  matter,  she  replied,  "  Massa,  me  know 
what  became  of  the  schoolmaster.  Great  spider  catch 
in  his  web  and  eat  him  ! " 

Whether  that  was  the  mode  of  his  disappearance, 
or  some  other,  certainly  the  schoolmaster  was  gone ; 
and  the  children  were  left  in  great  bewilderment  at 
the  sudden  vacancy  in  his  place.  They  had  not  con- 
tracted a  very  yearning  affection  for  him,  and  yet 
his  impression  had  been  individual  and  real,  and  they 
felt  that  something  was  gone  out  of  their  lives,  now 
that  he  was  no  longer  there.  Something  strange  in 
their  circumstances  made  itself  felt  by  them  ;  they 
were  more  sensible  of  the  grim  Doctor's  uncouthness, 
his  strange,  reprehensible  habits,  his  dark,  mysterious 
life,  —  in  looking  at  these  things,  and  the  spiders,  and 
the  graveyard,  and  their  insulation  from  the  world, 
through  the  crystal  medium  of  this  stranger's  character. 
In  remembering  him  in  connection  with  these  things, 
a  certain  seemly  beauty  in  him  showed  strikingly  the 
unfitness,  the  sombre  and  tarnished  color,  the  outre- 
ness,  of  the  rest  of  their  lot.  Little  Elsie  perhaps 
felt  the  loss  of  him  more  than  her  playmate,  although 
both  had  been  interested  by  him.  But  now  things 
returned  pretty  much  to  their  old  fashion ;  although, 


86  DOCTOR    GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

as  is  inevitably  the  case,  whenever  persons  or  things 
have  been  taken  suddenly  or  unaccountably  out  of 
our  sphere,  without  telling  us  whither  and  why  they 
have  disappeared,  the  children  could  not,  for  a  long 
while,  bring  themselves  to  feel  that  he  had  really 
gone.  Perhaps,  in  imitation  of  the  custom  in  that 
old  English  house,  of  which  the  Doctor  had  told 
them,  little  Elsie  insisted  that  his  place  should  still 
be  kept  at  the  table ;  and  so,  whenever  crusty  Han- 
nah neglected  to  do  so,  she  herself  would  fetch  a 
plate,  and  a  little  pitcher  of  water,  and  set  it  beside 
a  vacant  chair ;  and  sometimes,  so  like  a  shadow  had 
he  been,  this  pale,  slender  creature,  it  almost  might 
have  been  thought  that  he  was  sitting  with  them. 
But  crusty  Hannah  shook  her  head,  and  grinned. 
"  The  spider  know  where  he  is.  We  never  see  him 
more ! " 

His  abode  in  the  house  had  been  of  only  two  or 
three  weeks  ;  and  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  had 
he  come  and  gone  in  an  ordinary  way,  his  recollec- 
tion would  have  grown  dim  and  faded  out  in  two  or 
three  weeks  more ;  but  the  speculations,  the  expecta- 
tions, the  watchings  for  his  reappearance,  served  to 
cut  and  grave  the  recollection  of  him  into  the  chil- 
dren's hearts,  so  that  it  remained  a  life-long  thing 
with  them, —  a  sense  that  he  was  something  that  had 
been  lost  out  of  their  life  too  soon,  and  that  was 
bound,  sooner  or  later,  to  reappear,  and  finish  what 
business  he  had  with  them.  Sometimes  they  prat- 
tled around  the  Doctor's  chair  about  him,  and  they 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  87 

could  perceive  sometimes  that  he  appeared  to  be  lis- 
tening, and  would  chime  in  with  some  remark ;  but 
he  never  expressed  either  wonder  or  regret ;  only 
telling  Ned,  once,  that  he  had  no  reason  to  be  sorry 
for  his  disappearance. 

"  Why,  Doctor  Grim  ? "  asked  the  boy. 

The  Doctor  mused,  and  smoked  his  pipe,  as  if  he 
himself  were  thinking  why,  and  at  last  he  answered, 
"  He  was  a  dangerous  fellow,  my  old  boy." 

"  Why  ?  "  said  Ned  again. 

"  He  would  have  taken  the  beef  out  of  you,"  said 
the  Doctor. 

I  know  not  how  long  it  was  before  any  other  vis- 
itor (except  such  as  brought  their  shattered  constitu- 
tions there  in  hopes  that  the  Doctor  would  make  the 
worn-out  machinery  as  good  as  new)  came  to  the 
lonely  little  household  on  the  corner  of  the  grave- 
yard. The  intercourse  bet \roen  themselves  and  the 
rest  of  the  town  remained  as  scanty  as  ever.  Still, 
the  grim,  shaggy  Doctor  was  seen  setting  doggedly 
forth,  in  all  seasons  and  all  weathers,  at  a  certain 
hour  of  the  day,  with  the  two  children,  going  for  long 
walks  on  the  sea-shore,  or  into  the  country,  miles 
away,  and  coming  back,  hours  afterwards,  with  plants 
and  herbs  that  had  perhaps  virtue  in  them,  or  flowers 
that  had  certainly  beauty  ;  even,  in  their  season,  the 
fragrant  magnolias,  leaving  a  trail  of  fragrance  after 
them,  that  grow  only  in  spots,  the  seeds  having  been 
apparently  dropped  by  some  happy  accident  when 
those  proper  to  the  climate  were  distributed.  Shells 


88  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

there  were,  also,  in  the  baskets  that  they  carried, 
minerals,  rare  things,  that  a  magic  touch  seemed  to 
have  created  out  of  the  rude  and  common  things  that 
others  find  in  a  homely  and  ordinary  region.  The 
boy  was  growing  tall,  and  had  got  out  of  the  merely 
infantile  age ;  agile  he  was,  bright,  but  still  with  a 
remarkable  thoughtfulness,  or  gravity,  or  I  know  not 
what  to  call  it ;  but  it  was  a  shadow,  no  doubt,  fall- 
ing upon  him  from  something  sombre  in  his  warp  of 
life,  which  the  impressibility  of  his  age  and  nature  so 
far  acknowledged  as  to  be  a  little  pale  and  grave, 
without  positive  unhappiness ;  and  when  a  playful 
moment  came,  as  they  often  did  to  these  two  healthy 
children,  it  seemed  all  a  mistake  that  you  had  ever 
thought  either  of  them  too  grave  for  their  age.  But 
little  Elsie  was  still  the  merrier.  They  were  still 
children,  although  they  quarrelled  seldomer  than  of 
yore,  and  kissed  seldomer,  and  had  ceased  altogether 
to  complain  of  one  another  to  the  Doctor ;  perhaps 
the  time  when  Nature  saw  these  bickerings  to  be 
necessary  to  the  growth  of  some  of  their  faculties 
was  nearly  gone.  When  they  did  have  a  quarrel,  the 
boy  stood  upon  his  dignity,  and  visited  Elsie  with  a 
whole  day,  sometimes,  of  silent  and  stately  displeas- 
ure, which  she  was  accustomed  to  bear,  sometimes 
with  an  assumption  of  cold  indifference,  sometimes 
with  liveliness,  mirth  in  double  quantity,  laughter 
almost  as  good  as  real, — little  arts  which  showed 
themselves  in  her  as  naturally  as  the  gift  of  tears 
and  smiles.  In  fact,  having  no  advantage  of  female 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  89 

intercourse,  she  could  not  well  have  learnt  them 
unless  from  crusty  Hannah,  who  was  such  an  anom- 
aly of  a  creature,  with  all  her  mixtures  of  race,  that 
she  struck  you  as  having  lost  all  sex  as  one  result  of 
it.  Yet  this  little  girl  was  truly  feminine,  and  had 
all  the  manners  and  pre-eminently  uncriticisable 
tenets  proper  to  women  at  her  early  age. 

She  had  made  respectable  advancement  in  study  ; 
that  is,  she  had  taught  herself  to  write,  with  even 
greater  mechanical  facility  than  Ned;  and  other 
knowledge  had  fallen  upon  her,  as  it  were,  by  a  re- 
flected light  from  him  ;  or,  to  use  another  simile,  had 
been  spattered  upon  her  by  the  full  stream  which  the 
Doctor  poured  into  the  vessel  of  the  boy's  intellect. 
So  that  she  had  even  some  knowledge  of  the  rudi- 
ments of  Latin,  and  geometry,  and  algebra ;  inaccurate 
enough,  but  yet  with  such  a  briskness  that  she  was 
sometimes  able  to  assist  Ned  in  studies  in  which  he 
was  far  more  deeply  grounded  than  herself.  All  this, 
however,  was  more  by  sympathy  than  by  any  natural 
taste  for  such  things ;  being  kindly,  and  sympathetic, 
and  impressible,  she  took  the  color  of  what  was  near- 
est to  her,  and  especially  when  it  came  from  a  beloved 
object,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  discover  that  it  was 
not  really  one  of  her  native  tastes.  The  only  thing, 
perhaps,  altogether  suited  to  her  idiosyncrasy  (because 
it  was  truly  feminine,  calculated  for  dainty  fingers, 
and  a  nice  little  subtlety)  was  that  kind  of  embroi- 
dery, twisting,  needle-work,  on  textile  fabric,  which,  as 
we  hate  before  said,  she  learnt  from  crusty  Hannah, 


90  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

and  which  was  emblematic  perhaps  of  that  creature's 
strange  mixture  of  races. 

Elsie  seemed  not  only  to  have  caught  this  art  in  its 
original  spirit,  but  to  have  improved  upon  it,  creating 
strange,  fanciful,  and  graceful  devices,  which  grew 
beneath  her  finger  as  naturally  as  the  variegated  hues 
grow  in  a  flower  as  it  opens ;  so  that  the  homeliest 
material  assumed  a  grace  and  strangeness  as  she  wove 
it,  whether  it  were  grass,  twigs,  shells,  or  what  not. 
Never  was  anything  seen,  that  so  combined  a  wild, 
barbarian  freedom  with  cultivated  grace ;  and  the 
grim  Doctor  himself,  little  open  to  the  impressions  of 
the  beautiful,  used  to  hold  some  of  her  productions  in 
his  hand,  gazing  at  them  with  deep  intentness,  and  at 
last,  perhaps,  breaking  out  into  one  of  his  deep  roars 
of  laughter  ;  for  it  seemed  to  suggest  thoughts  to  him 
that  the  children  could  not  penetrate.  This  one  fea- 
ture of  strangeness  and  wild  faculty  in  the  otherwise 
sweet  and  natural  and  homely  character  of  Elsie  had 
a  singular  effect ;  it  was  like  a  wreath  of  wild-flowers 
in  her  hair,  like  something  that  set  her  a  little  way 
apart  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  had  an  even  more 
striking  effect  than  if  she  were  altogether  strange. 

Thus  were  the^  little  family  going  on ;  the  Doctor, 
I  regret  to  say,  growing  more  morose,  self-involved, 
and  unattainable  since  the  disappearance  of  the 
schoolmaster  than  before;  more  given  up  to  his  one 
plaything,  the  great  spider ;  less  frequently  even  than 
before  coming  out  of  the  grim  seclusion  of  his  moodi- 
ness,  to  play  with  the  children,  though  they  would 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  91 

often  be  sensible  of  his  fierce  eyes  fixed  upon  them, 
and  start  and  feel  incommoded  by  the  intensity  of  his 
regard;  —  thus  things  were  going  on,  when  one  day 
there  was  really  again  a  visitor,  and  not  a  dilapidated 
patient,  to  the  grim  Doctor's  study.  Crusty  Hannah 
brought  up  his  name  as  Mr.  Hammond,  and  the  Doc- 
tor —  filling  his  everlasting  pipe,  meanwhile,  and  or- 
dering Hannah  to  give  him  a  coal  (perhaps  this  was 
the  circumstance  that  made  people  say  he  had  imps 
to  bring  him  coals  from  Tophet)  —  ordered  him  to 
be  shown  up.2 

A  fresh-colored,  rather  young  man3  entered  the 
study,  a  person  of  rather  cold  and  ungraceful  manners, 
yet  genial-looking  enough  ;  at  least,  not  repulsive.  He 
was  dressed  in  rather  a  rough,  serviceable  travelling- 
dress,  and  except  for  a  nicely  brushed  hat,  and  unmis- 
takably white  linen,  was  rather  careless  in  attire.  You 
would  have  thought  twice,  perhaps,  before  deciding 
him  to  be  a  gentleman,  but  finally  would  have  decided 
that  he  was;  one  great  token  being, that  the  singular 
aspect  of  the  room  into  which  he  was  ushered,  the 
spider  festoonery,  and  other  strange  accompaniments, 
the  grim  aspect  of  the  Doctor  himself,  and  the  beauty 
and  intelligence  of  his  two  companions,  and  even 
that  horrific  weaver,  the  great  dangling  spider,— 
neither  one  nor  all  of  these  called  any  expression  of 
surprise  to  the  stranger's  face. 

"  Your  name  is  Hammond  ? "  begins  the  Doctor, 
with  his  usual  sparseness  of  ornamental  courtesy.* 

The  stranger  bowed. 


92  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  An  Englishman,  I  perceive,"  continued  the  Doc- 
tor, but  nowise  intimating  that  the  fact  of  being  a 
countryman  was  any  recommendation  in  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  an  Englishman,"  replied  Hammond  ;  "  a 
briefless  barrister,5  in  fact,  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  who, 
having  little  or  nothing  to  detain  him  at  home,  has 
come  to  spend  a  few  idle  months  in  seeing  the  new 
republic  which  has  been  made  out  of  English  sub- 
stance." 

"  And  what,"  continued  Doctor  Grim,  not  a  whit 
relaxing  the  repulsiveness  of  his  manner,  and  scowl- 
ing askance  at  the  stranger, — "what  may  have  drawn 
on  me  the  good  fortune  of  being  compelled  to  make 
my  time  idle,  because  yours  is  so  ? " 

The  stranger's  cheek  flushed  a  little  ;  but  he  smiled 
to  himself,  as  if  saying  that  here  was  a  grim,  rude 
kind  of  humorist,  who  had  lost  the  sense  of  his  own 
peculiarity,  and  had  no  idea  that  he  was  rude  at 
all.  "  I  came  to  America,  as  I  told  you,"  said  he, 
"  chiefly  because  I  was  idle,  and  wanted  to  turn  my 
enforced  idleness  to  what  profit  I  could,  in  the  way 
of  seeing  men,  manners,  governments,  and  problems, 
which  I  hope  to  have  no  time  to  study  by  and  by. 
But  I  also  had  an  errand  intrusted  to  me,  and  of  a 
singular  nature ;  and  making  inquiry  in  this  little 
town  (where  my  mission  must  be  performed,  if  at 
all),  I  have  been  directed  to  you,  by  your  towns- 
people, as  to  a  person  not  unlikely  to  be  able  to  assist 
me  in  it." 

"  My  townspeople,  since  you  choose  to  call  them 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.          93 

so,"  answered  the  grim  Doctor,  "  ought  to  know,  by 
this  time,  that  I  am  not  the  sort  of  man  likely  to 
assist  any  person,  in  any  way." 

"  Yet  this  is  so  singular  an  affair,"  said  the  stranger, 
still  with  mild  courtesy,  "  that  at  least  it  may  excite 
your  curiosity.  I  have  come  here  to  find  a  grave." 

"  To  find  a  grave  !  "  said  Doctor  Grim,  giving  way 
to  a  grim  sense  of  humor,  and  relaxing  just  enough 
to  let  out  a  joke,  the  tameuess  of  which  was  a  little 
redeemed,  to  his  taste,  by  its  grimness.  "  I  might 
help  you  there,  to  be  sure,  since  it  is  all  in  the  way 
of  business.  Like  others  of  my  profession,  I  have 
helped  many  people  to  find  their  graves,  no  doubt, 
and  shall  be  happy  to  do  the  same  for  you.  You 
have  hit  upon  the  one  thing  in  which  my  services 
are  ready." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  young 
stranger,  having  tact  enough  to  laugh  at  Dr.  Grim's 
joke,  and  thereby  mollifying  him  a  little ;  "  but  as 
far  as  I  am  personally  concerned,  I  prefer  to  wait  a 
while  before  making  the  discovery  of  that  little  spot 
in  Mother  Earth  which  I  am  destined  to  occupy. 
It  is  a  grave  which  has  been  occupied  as  such  for  at 
least  a  century  and  a  half  which  I  am  in  quest  of ; 
and  it  is  as  an  antiquarian,  a  genealogist,  a  person 
who  has  had  dealings  with  the  dead  of  long  ago, 
not  as  a  professional  man  engaged  in  adding  to  their 
number,  that  I  ask  your  aid." 

"  Ah,  ahah ! "  said  the  Doctor,  laying  down  his 
pipe,  and  looking  earnestly  at  the  stranger;  not  kindly 


94          DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

nor  genially,  but  rather  with  a  lurid  glance  of  suspi- 
cion out  of  those  red  eyes  of  his,  but  no  longer  with 
a  desire  to  escape  an  intruder;  rather  as  one  who 
meant  to  clutch  him.  "  Explain  your  meaning,  sir, 
at  once." 

"  Then  here  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Hammond.  ' "  There  is 
an  old  English  family,  one  of  the  members  of  which, 
very  long  ago,  emigrated  to  this  part  of  America, 
then  a  wilderness,  and  long  afterwards  a  British  col- 
ony. He  was  on  ill  terms  with  his  family.  There 
is  reason  to  believe  that  documents,  deeds,  titular 
proofs,  or  some  other  thing  valuable  to  the  family, 
were  buried  in  the  grave  of  this  emigrant ;  and  there 
have  been  various  attempts,  within  a  century,  to  find 
this  grave,  and  if  possible  some  living  descendant  of 
the  man,  or  both,  under  the  idea  that  either  of  these 
cases  might  influence  the  disputed  descent  of  the 
property,  and  enable  the  family  to  prove  its  claims 
to  an  ancient  title.  Now,  rather  as  a  matter  of 
curiosity,  than  with  any  real  hope  of  success,  —  and 
being  slightly  connected  with  the  family,  —  I  have 
taken  what  seems  to  myself  a  wild-goose  chase  ;  mak- 
ing it  merely  incidental,  you  well  understand,  not 
by  any  means  the  main  purpose  of  my  voyage  to 
America." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  this  family  ? "  asked  the 
Doctor,  abruptly. 

"  The  man  whose  grave  I  seek,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  lived  and  died,  in  this  country,  under  the  assumed 
name  of  Colcord." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  95 

"  How  do  you  expect  to  succeed  in  this  ridiculous 
quest  ? "  asked  the  Doctor,  "  and  what  marks,  signs, 
directions,  have  you  to  guide  your  search  ?  And 
moreover,  how  have  you  come  to  any  knowledge 
whatever  about  the  matter,  even  that  the  emigrant 
ever  assumed  this  name  of  Colcord,  and  that  he  was 
buried  anywhere,  and  that  his  place  of  burial,  after 
more  than  a  century,  is  of  the  slightest  importance  ? " 

"  All  this  was  ascertained  by  a  messenger  on  a  sim- 
ilar errand  with  my  own,  only  undertaken  nearly  a 
century  ago,  and  more  in  earnest  than  I  can  pretend 
to  be,"  replied  the  Englishman.  "At  that  period, 
however,  there  was  probably  a  desire  to  find  nothing 
that  might  take  the  hereditary  possessions  of  the  fam- 
ily out  of  the  branch  which  still  held  them ;  and  there 
is  strong  reason  to  suspect  that  the  information  ac- 
quired was  purposely  kept  secret  by  the  person  in 
England  into  whose  hands  it  came.  The  thing  is 
differently  situated  now ;  the  possessor  of  the  estate 
is  recently  dead ;  and  the  discovery  of  an  American 
heir  would  not  be  unacceptable  to  many.  At  all 
events,  any  knowledge  gained  here  would  throw  light 
on  a  somewhat  doubtful  matter." 

"  Where,  as  nearly  as  you  can  judge,"  said  the 
Doctor,  after  a  turn  or  two  through  the  study,  "  was 
this  man  buried  ?  " 

"  He  spent  the  last  years  of  his  life,  certainly,  in 
this  town,"  said  Hammond,  "  and  may  be  found,  if  at 
all,  among  the  dead  of  that  period." 

"  And  they  —  their  miserable  dust,  at  least,  which 


96  DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

is  all  that  still  exists  of  them  —  were  buried  in  the 
graveyard  under  these  windows,"  said  the  Doctor. 
"  What  marks,  I  say,  —  for  you  might  as  well  seek  a 
vanished  wave  of  the  sea,  as  a  grave  that  surged  up- 
ward so  long  ago." 

"  On  the  gravestone,"  said  Hammond,  "  a  slate 
one,  there  was  rudely  sculptured  the  impress  of 
a  foot.  What  it  signifies  I  cannot  conjecture,  ex- 
cept it  had  some  reference  to  a  certain  legend  of  a 
bloody  footstep,  which  is  currently  told,  and  some 
token  of  which  yet  remains  on  one  of  the  thresholds 
of  the  ancient  mansion-house. 

Ned  and  Elsie  had  withdrawn  themselves  from  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  fireside,  and  were  playing 
at  fox  and  geese  in  a  corner  near  the  window.  But 
little  Elsie,  having  very  quick  ears,  and  a  faculty  of 
attending  to  more  affairs  than  one,  now  called  out, 
"  Doctor  Grim,  Ned  and  I  know  where  that  grave- 
stone is." 

"  Hush,  Elsie,"  whispered  Ned,  earnestly. 

"Come  forward  here,  both  of  you,"  said  Doctor 
Grimshawe. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.  97 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  two  children  approached,  and  stood  before  the 
Doctor  and  his  guest,  the  latter  of  whom  had  not 
hitherto  taken  particular  notice  of  them.  He  now 
looked  from  one  to  the  other,  with  the  pleasant,  genial 
expression  of  a  person  gifted  with  a  natural  liking  for 
children,  and  the  freemasonry  requisite  to  bring  him 
acquainted  with  them  ;  and  it  lighted  up  his  face  with 
a  pleasant  surprise  to  see  two  such  beautiful  speci- 
mens of  boyhood  and  girlhood  in  this  dismal,  spider- 
haunted  house,  and  under  the  guardianship  of  such 
a  savage  lout  as  the  grim  Doctor.  He  seemed  par- 
ticularly struck  by  the  intelligence  and  sensibility  of 
Ned's  face,  and  met  his  eyes  with  a  glance  that  Ned 
long  afterwards  remembered  ;  but  yet  he  seemed  quite 
as  much  interested  by  Elsie,  and  gazed  at  her  face 
with  a  perplexed,  inquiring  glance. 

"  These  are  fine  children,"  said  he.  "  May  I  ask  if 
they  are  your  own  ?  —  Pardon  me  if  I  ask  amiss," 
added  he,  seeing  a  frown  on  the  Doctor's  brow. 

"  Ask  nothing  about  the  brats,"  replied  he  grimly. 
"  Thank  Heaven,  they  are  not  my  children ;  so  your 
question  is  answered." 

"  I  again  ask  pardon/'  said  Mr.  Hammond.  "  I  arn 
fond  of  children ;  and  the  boy  has  a  singularly  fine 


98  DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

countenance ;  not  in  the  least  English.  The  true 
American  face,  no  doubt.  As  to  this  sweet  little  girl, 
she  impresses  me  with  a  vague  resemblance  to  some 
person  I  have  seen.  Hers  I  should  deem  an  English 
lace." 

"  These  children  are  not  our  topic,"  said  the  grim 
Doctor,  with  gruff  impatience.  "  If  they  are  to  be  so, 
our  conversation  is  ended.  Ned,  what  do  you  know 
of  this  gravestone  with  the  bloody  foot  on  it  ? " 

"  It  is  not  a  bloody  foot,  Doctor  Grim,"  said  Ned, 
"  and  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  a  foot  at  all ;  only  Elsie 
and  I  chose  to  fancy  so,  because  of  a  story  that  we 
used  to  play  at.  But  we 'were  children  then.  The 
gravestone  lies  on  the  ground,  within  a  little  bit  of  a 
walk  of  our  door ;  but  this  snow  has  covered  it  all 
over ;  else  we  might  go  out  and  see  it." 

"  We  will  go  out  at  any  rate,"  saM  the  Doctor,  "and 
if  the  Englishman  chooses  to  come  to  America,  he 
must  take  our  snows  as  he  finds  them.  Take  your 
shovel,  Ned,  and  if  necessary  we  will  uncover  the 
gravestone." 

They  accordingly  muffled  themselves  in  their  warm- 
est, and  plunged  forth  through  a  back  door  into  Ned 
and  Elsie's  playground,  as  the  grim  Doctor  was  wont 
to  call  it.  The  snow,  except  in  one  spot  close  at 
hand,  lay  deep,  like  cold  oblivion,  over  the  surging 
graves,  and  piled  itself  in  drifted  heaps  against  every 
stone  that  raised  itself  above  the  level ;  it  filled  envi- 
ously the  letters  of  the  inscriptions,  enveloping  all 
the  dead  in  one  great  winding-sheet,  whiter  and  colder 


DOCTOR    GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.  99 

than  those  which  they  had  individually  worn.  The 
dreary  space  was  pathless ;  not  a  footstep  had  tracked 
through  the  heavy  snow ;  for  it  must  be  warm  affec- 
tion indeed  that  could  so  melt  this  wintry  impression 
as  to  penetrate  through  the  snow  and  frozen  earth, 
and  establish  any  warm  thrills  with  the  dead  beneath : 
daisies,  grass,  genial  earth,  these  allow  of  the  magnet- 
ism of  such  sentiments  ;  but  winter  sends  them  shiv- 
ering back  to  the  baffled  heart. 

"  Well,  Ned,"  said  the  Doctor,  impatiently. 

Ned  looked  about  him  somewhat  bewildered,  and 
then  pointed  to  a  spot  within  not  more  than  ten  paces 
of  the  threshold  which  they  had  just  crossed ;  and 
there  appeared,  not  a  gravestone,  but  a  new  grave 
(if  any  grave  could  be  called  new  in  that  often-dug 
soil,  made  up  of  old  mortality),  an  open  hole,  with 
the  freshly-dug  earth  piled  up  beside  it.  A  little 
snow  (for  there  had  been  a  gust  or  two  since  morn- 
ing) appeared,  as  they  peeped  over  the  edge,  to  have 
fallen  into  it;  but  not  enough  to  prevent  a  coffin  from 
finding  fit  room  and  accommodation  in  it.  But  it 
was  evident  that  the  grave  had  been  dug  that  very 
day. 

"The  headstone,  with  the  foot  on  it,  was  just 
here,"  said  Ned,  in  much  perplexity,  "  and,  as  far  as  I 
can  judge,  the  old  sunken  grave  exactly  marked  out 
the  space  of  this  new  one."  l 

"  It  is  a  shame,"  said  Elsie,  much  shocked  at  the 
indecorum,  "that  the  new  person  should  be  thrust  in 
here  ;  for  the  old  one  was  a  friend  of  ours." 


100        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  But  what  has  become  of  the  headstone ! "  ex- 
claimed the  young  English  stranger. 

During  their  perplexity,  a  person  had  approached 
the  group,  wading  through  the  snow  from  the  gateway 
giving  entrance  from  the  street ;  a  gaunt  figure,  with 
stooping  shoulders,  over  one  of  which  was  a  spade 
and  some  other  tool  fit  for  delving  in  the  earth ;  and 
in  his  face  there  was  the  sort  of  keen,  humorous 
twinkle  that  grave-diggers  somehow  seem  to  get,  as  if 
the  dolorous  character  of  their  business  necessitated 
something  unlike  itself  by  an  inevitable  reaction. 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  said  he,  with  a  shrewd  wink  in  his 
face,  "  are  you  looking  for  one  of  your  patients  ?  The 
man  who  is  to  be  put  to  bed  here  was  never  caught 
in  your  spider's  web." 

"No,"  said  Doctor  Grimshawe ;  "when  my  patients 
have  done  with  me,  I  leave  them  to  you  and  the  old 
Nick,  and  never  trouble  myself  about  them  more. 
What  I  want  to  know  is,  why  you  have  taken  upon 
you  to  steal  a  man's  grave,  after  he  has  had  immemo- 
rial possession  of  it.  By  what  right  have  you  dug 
up  this  bed,  undoing  the  work  of  a  predecessor  of 
yours,  who  has  long  since  slept  in  one  of  his  own 
furrows  ? " 

"  Why,  Doctor,"  said  the  grave-digger,  looking  qui- 
etly into  the  cavernous  pit  which  he  had  hollowed, 
"  it  is  against  common  sense  that  a  dead  man  should 
think  to  keep  a  grave  to  himself  longer  than  till  you 
can  take  up  his  substance  in  a  shovel.  It  would  be 
a  strange  thing  enough,  if,  when  living  families  are 


DOCTOR   GRTMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         101 

turned  out  of  their  homes  twice  or  thrice  in  a  genera- 
tion, (as  they  are  likely  to  be  in  our  new  government,) 
a  dead  man  should  think  he  must  sleep  in  one  spot 
till  the  day  of  judgment.  No ;  turn  about,  I  say,  to 
these  old  fellows.  As  long  as  they  can  decently  be 
called  dead  men,  I  let  them  lie ;  when  they  are  noth- 
ing but  dust,  I  just  take  leave  to  stir  them  on  occasion. 
This  is  the  way  we  do  things  under  the  republic, 
whatever  your  customs  be  in  the  old  country." 

"  Matters  are  very  much  the  same  in  any  old  Eng- 
lish churchyard,"  said  the  English  stranger.  "But, 
my  good  friend,  I  have  come  three  thousand  miles, 
partly  to  find  this  grave,  and  am  a  little  disappointed 
to  find  my  labor  lost." 

"  Ah  !  and  you  are  the  man  my  father  was  looking 
for,"  said  the  grave-digger,  nodding  his  head  at  Mr. 
Hammond.  "  My  father,  who  was  a  grave-digger 
afore  me,  died  four  and  thirty  years  ago,  when  we 
were  under  the  King ;  and  says  he,  '  Ebenezer,  do  not 
you  turn  up  a  sod  in  this  spot,  till  you  have  turned 
up  every  other  in  the  ground.'  And  I  have  always 
obeyed  him." 

"  And  what  was  the  reason  of  such  a  singular  pro- 
hibition ? "  asked  Hammond. 

"  My  father  knew,"  said  the  grave-digger,  "  and  he 
told  me  the  reason  too ;  but  since  we  are  under  the 
republic,  we  have  given  up  remembering  those  old- 
world  legends,  as  we  used  to.  The  newspapers  keep 
us  from  talking  in  the  chimney-corner ;  and  so  things 
go  out  of  our  minds.  An  old  man,  with  his  stories 


102        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

of  what  lie  has  seen,  and  what  his  great-grandfather 
saw  before  him,  is  of  little  account  since  newspapers 
came  up.  Stop  —  I  remember  —  no,  I  forget,  —  it 
was  something  about  the  grave  holding  a  witness, 
who  had  been  sought  before  and  might  be  again." 

"  And  that  is  all  you  know  about  it  ? "  said  Ham- 
mond. 

"  All,  —  every  mite,"  said  the  old  grave-digger. 
"  But  my  father  knew,  and  would  have  been  glad  to 
tell  you  the  whole  story.  There  was  a  great  deal 
of  wisdom  and  knowledge,  about  graves  especially, 
buried  out  yonder  where  my  old  father  was  put  away, 
before  the  Stamp  Act  was  thought  of.  But  it  is  no 
great  matter,  I  suppose.  People  don't  care  about  old 
graves  in  these  times.  They  just  live,  and  put  the 
dead  out  of  sight  and  out  of  mind." 

"  Well ;  but  what  have  you  done  with  the  head- 
stone ? "  said  the  Doctor.  "  You  can't  have  eaten 
it  up." 

"  No,  no,  Doctor,"  said  the  grave-digger,  laughing ; 
"  it  would  crack  better  teeth  than  mine,  old  and  crum- 
bly as  it  is.  And  yet  I  meant  to  do  something  with 
it  that  is  akin  to  eating;  for  my  oven  needs  a  new 
floor,  and  I  thought  to  take  this  stone,  which  would 
stand  the  fire  well.  But  here,"  eontinued  he,  scrap- 
ing away  the  snow  with  his  shovel,  a  task  in  which 
little  Ned  gave  his  assistance,  — "  here  is  the  head- 
stone, just  as  I  have  always  seen  it,  and  as  my  father 
saw  it  before  me." 

The  ancient  memorial,  being  cleared  of  snow,  proved 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         103 

to  be  a  slab  of  freestone,  with  some  rude  traces  of 
carving  in  bas-relief  around  the  border,  now  much 
effaced,  and  an  impression,  which  seemed  to  be  as 
much  like  a  human  foot  as  anything  else,  sunk  into 
the  slab;  but  this  device  was  wrought  in  a  much 
more  clumsy  way  than  the  ornamented  border,  and 
evidently  by  an  unskilful  hand.  Beneath  was  an  in- 
scription, over  which  the  hard,  flat  lichens  had  grown, 
and  done  their  best  to  obliterate  it,  although  the  fol- 
lowing words  might  be  written  2  or  guessed  :  — 

"  Here  lyeth  the  mortal  part  of  Thomas  Colcord, 
an  upright  man,  of  tender  and  devout  soul,  who  de- 
parted this  troublous  life  September  ye  nineteenth, 
1667,  aged  57  years  and  nine  months.  Happier  in 
his  death  than  in  his  lifetime.  Let  his  bones  be." 

The  name,  Colcord,  was  somewhat  defaced  ;  it  was 
impossible,  in  the  general  disintegration  of  the  stone, 
to  tell  whether  wantonly,  or  with  a  purpose  of  alter- 
ing and  correcting  some  error  in  the  spelling,  or,  as 
occurred  to  Hammond,  to  change  the  name  entirely. 

"  This  is  very  unsatisfactory,"  said  Hammond, 
"  but  very  curious,  too.  But  this  certainly  is  the 
impress  of  what  was  meant  for  a  human  foot,  and 
coincides  strangely  with  the  legend  of  the  Bloody 
Footstep,  —  the  mark  of  the  foot  that  trod  in  the 
blessed  King  Charles's  blood." 

"  For  that  matter,"  said  the  grave-digger,  "  it  comes 
into  my  mind  that  my  father  used  to  call  it  the  stamp 
of  Satan's  foot,  because  he  claimed  the  dead  man  for 
his  own.  It  is  plain  to  see  that  there  was  a  deep 
cleft  between  two  of  the  toes." 


104        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  There  are  two  ways  of  telling  that  legend,"  re- 
marked the  Doctor.  "  But  did  you  find  nothing  in 
the  grave,  He  wen  ?  " 

"  O,  yes,  —  a  bone  or  two,  —  as  much  as  could  he 
expected  after  ahove  a  hundred  years,"  said  the 
grave-digger.  "  I  tossed  them  aside ;  and  if  you  are 
curious  about  them,  you  will  find  them  when  the 
snow  melts.  That  was  all ;  and  it  would  have  been 
unreasonable  in  old  Colcord  —  especially  in  these 
republican  times  —  to  have  wanted  to  keep  his  grave 
any  longer,  when  there  was  so  little  of  him  left." 

"  I  must  drop  the  matter  here,  then,"  said  Ham- 
mond, with  a  sigh.  "  Here,  my  friend,  is  a  trifle  for 
your  trouble." 

"  No  trouble,"  said  the  grave-digger,  "  and  in  these 
republican  times  we  can't  take  anything  for  nothing, 
because  it  won't  do  for  a  poor  man  to  take  off  his  hat 
and  say  thank  you." 

Nevertheless,  he  did  take  the  silver,  and  winked  a 
sort  of  acknowledgment. 

The  Doctor,  with  unwonted  hospitality,  invited  the 
English  stranger  to  dine  in  his  house ;  and  though 
tfrere  was  no  pretence  of  cordiality  in  the  invitation, 
Mr.  Hammond  accepted  it,  being  probably  influenced 
by  curiosity  to  make  out  some  definite  idea  of  the 
strange  household  in  which  he  found  himself.  Doc- 
tor Grimshawe  having  taken  it  upon  him  to  be  host, 
—  for,  up  to  this  time,  the  stranger  stood  upon  his 
own  responsibility,  and,  having  voluntarily  presented 
himself  to  the  Doctor,  had  only  himself  to  thank  for 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        105 

any  scant  courtesy  he  might  meet,. —  but  now  the 
grim  Doctor  became  genial  after  his  own  fashion. 
At  dinner  he  produced  a  bottle  of  port,  which  made 
the  young  Englishman  almost  fancy  himself  on  the 
other  side  of  the  water ;  and  he  entered  into  a  con- 
versation, which  I  fancy  was  the  chief  object  which 
the  grim  Doctor  had  in  view  in  showing  himself  in 
so  amiable  a  light,3  for  in  the  course  of  it  the  stran- 
ger was  insensibly  led  to  disclose  many  things,  as  it 
were  of  his  own  accord,  relating  to  the  part  of  Eng- 
land whence  he  came,  and  especially  to  the  estate  and 
family  which  have  been  before  mentioned, —  the  pres- 
ent state  of  that  family,  together  with  other  things  that 
he  seemed  to  himself  to  pour  out  naturally,  —  for,  at 
last,  he  drew  himself  up,  and  attempted  an  excuse. 

"Your  good  wine,"  said  he,  "or  the  unexpected 
accident  of  meeting  a  countryman,  has  made  me 
unusually  talkative,  and  on  subjects,  I  fear,  which 
have  not  a  particular  interest  for  you." 

"I  have  not  quite  succeeded  in  shaking  off  my 
country,  as  you  see,"  said  Doctor  Grimshawe,  "  though 
I  neither  expect  nor  wish  ever  to  see  it  again." 

There  was  something  rather  ungracious  in  the  grim 
Doctor's  response,  and  as  they  now  adjourned  to  his 
study,  and  the  Doctor  betook  himself  to  his  pipe  and 
tumbler,  the  young  Englishman  sought  to  increase 
his  acquaintance  with  the  two  children,  both  of  whom 
showed  themselves  graciously  inclined  towards  him ; 
more  warmly  so  than  they  had  been  to  the  school- 
master, as  he  was  the  only  other  guest  whom  they 
had  ever  met. 


106        DOCTOR   GRIM-SHAWE'S   SECRET. 

"  Would  you  Mke  to  see  England,  -my  little  fellow  ? " 
he  inquired  of  Ned. 

"  Oh,  very  much !  more  than  anything  else  in  the 
world,"  replied  the  boy;  his  eyes  gleaming  and  his 
cheeks  flushing  with  the  earnestness  of  his  response  ; 
for,  indeed,  the  question  stirred  up  all  the  dreams  and 
reveries  which  the  child  had  cherished,  far  back  into 
the  dim  regions  of  his  memory.  After  what  the  Doc- 
tor had  told  him  of  his  origin,  he  had  never  felt  any 
home  feeling  here;  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was 
wandering  Ned,  whom  the  wind  had  blown  from  afar. 
Somehow  or  other,  from  many  circumstances  which 
he  put  together  and  seethed  in  his  own  childish  im- 
agination, it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  to  go  back  to 
that  far  old  country,  and  there  wander  among  the 
green,  ivy-grown,  venerable  scenes ;  the  older  he  grew, 
the  more  his  mind  took  depth,  the  stronger  was  this 
fancy  in  him ;  though  even  to  Elsie  he  had  scarcely 
breathed  it. 

"  So  strong  a  desire,"  said  the  stranger,  smiling  at 
his  earnestness,  "  will  be  sure  to  work  out  its  own 
accomplishment.  I  shall  meet  you  in  England,  my 
young  friend,  one  day  or  another.  And  you,  my 
little  girl,  are  you  as  anxious  to  see  England  as  your 
brother  ? " 

"  Ned  is  not  my  brother,"  said  little  Elsie. 

The  Doctor  here  interposed  some  remark  on  a  dif- 
ferent subject;  for  it  was  observable  that  he  never 
liked  to  have  the  conversation  turn  on  these  children, 
their  parentage,  or  relations  to  each  other  or  himself. 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         107 

The  children  were  sent  to  bed ;  and  the  young  Eng- 
lishman, finding  the  conversation  lag,  and  his  host 
becoming  gruffer  and  less  communicative  than  he 
thought  quite  courteous,  retired.  But  before  he 
went,  however,  he  could  not  refrain  from  making  a 
remark  on  the  gigantic  spider,  which  was  swinging 
like  a  pendulum  above  the  Doctor's  head. 

"  What  a  singular  pet ! "  said  he ;  for  the  nervous 
part  of  him  had  latterly  been  getting  uppermost,  so 
that  it  disturbed  him ;  in  fact,  the  spider  above  and 
the  grim  man  below  equally  disturbed  him.  "  Are 
you  a  naturalist  ?  Have  you  noted  his  habits  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I  have  learned  from  his 
web  how  to  weave  a  plot,  and  how  to  catch  my  vic- 
tim and  devour  him  ! " 

"Thank  God,"  said  the  Englishman, , as  he  issued 
forth  into  the  cold  gray  night,  "  I  have  escaped  the 
grim  fellow's  web,  at  all  events.  How  strange -a 
group,  —  those  two  sweet  children,  that  grim  old 
man ! " 

As  regards  this  matter  of  the  ancient  grave,  it  re- 
mains to  be  recorded,  that,  when  the  snow  melted, 
little  Ned  and  Elsie  went  to  look  at  the  spot,  where, 
by  this  time,  there  was  a  little  hillock  with  the  brown 
sods  laid  duly  upon  it,  which  the  coming  spri no- 
would  make  green.  By.  the  side  of  it  they  saw,  with 
more  curiosity  than  repugnance,  a  few  fragments  of 
crumbly  bones,  which  they  plausibly  conjectured  to 
have  appertained  to  some  part  of  the  framework  of 
the  ancient  Colcord,  wherewith  he  had  walked  through 


108        DOCTOR   GR1MSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

the  troublous  life  of  which  his  gravestone  spoke. 
And  little  Elsie,  whose  eyes  were  very  sharp,  and 
her  observant  qualities  of  the  quickest,  found  some- 
thing which  Ned  at  first  pronounced  to  be  only  a  bit 
of  old  iron,  incrusted  with  earth ;  but  Elsie  persisted 
to  knock  off  some  of  the  earth  that  seemed  to  have 
iucrusted  it,  and  discovered  a  key.  The  children 
ran  with  their  prize  to  the  grim  Doctor,  who  took  it 
between  his  thumb  and  finger,  turned  it  over  and 
over,  and  then  proceeded  to  rub  it  with  a  chemical 
substance  which  soon  made  it  bright.  It  proved 
to  be  a  silver  key,  of  antique  and  curious  work- 
manship. 

"  Perhaps  this  is  what  Mr.  Hammond  was  in  search 
of,"  said  Ned.  "  What  a  pity  he  is  gone !  Perhaps 
we  can  send  it  after  him." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  gruff  Doctor. 

And  attaching  the  key  to  a  chain,  which  he  took 
from  a  drawer,  and  which  seemed  to  be  gold,  he 
hung  it  round  Ned's  neck. 

"When  you  find  a  lock  for  this  key,"  said  he, 
"  open  it,  and  consider  yourself  heir  of  whatever 
treasure  is  revealed  there  ! " 

Ned  continued  that  sad,  fatal  habit  of  growing  out 
of  childhood,  as  boys  will,  until  he  was  now  about 
ten  years  old,  and  little  Elsie  as  much  as  six  or 
seven.  He  looked  healthy,  but  pale;  something 
there  was  in  the  character  and  influences  of  his  life 
that  made  him  look  as  if  he  were  growing  up  in  a 
shadow,  with  less  sunshine  than  he  needed  for  a 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         109 

robust  and  exuberant  development,  though  enough 
to  make  his  intellectual  growth  tend  towards  a  little 
luxuriance,  in  some  directions.  He  was  likely  to 
turn  out  a  fanciful,  perhaps  a  poetic  youth ;  young  as 
he  was,  there  had  been  already  discoveries,  on  the 
grim  Doctor's  part,  of  certain  blotted  and  clumsily 
scrawled  scraps  of  paper,  the  chirography  on  which 
was  arrayed  in  marshalled  lines  of  unequal  length, 
and  each  commanded  by  a  capital  letter  and  march- 
ing on  from  six  to  ten  lame  feet.  Doctor  Grim 
inspected  these  things  curiously,  and  to  say  the  truth 
most  scornfully,  before  he  took  them  to  light  his 
pipe  withal;  but  they  told  him  little  as  regarded 
this  boy's  internal  state,  being  mere  echoes,  and  very 
lugubrious  ones,  of  poetic  strains  that  were  floating 
about  in  the  atmosphere  of  that  day,  long  before 
any  now  remembered  bard  had  begun  to  sing.  But 
there  were  the  rudiments  of  a  poetic  and  imagina- 
tive mind  within  the  boy,  if  its  subsequent  culture 
should  be  such  as  the  growth  of  that  delicate  flower 
requires ;  a  brooding  habit  taking  outward  things 
into  itself  and  imbuing  them  with  its  own  essence 
until,  after  they  had  lain  there  awhile,  they  assumed 
a  relation  both  to  truth  and  to  himself,  and  became 
mediums  to  affect  other  minds  with  the  magnetism 
of  his  own.  He  lived  far  too  much  an  inward  life 
for  healthful  ness,  at  his  age;  the  peculiarity  of  his 
situation,  a  child  of  mystery,  with  certain  reaches 
and  vistas  that  seemed  to  promise  a  bright  solu- 
tion of  his  mystery,  keeping  his  imagination  always 


110         DOCTOR    GRIM SH AWE'S   SECRET. 

awake  and  strong.  That  castle  in  the  air,  —  so 
much  more  vivid  than  other  castles,  because  it  had 
perhaps  a  real  substance  of  ancient,  ivy-grown,  hewn 
stone  somewhere,  — that  visionary  hall  in  England, 
with  its  surrounding  woods  and  fine  lawns,  and  the 
beckoning  shadows  at  the  ancient  windows,  and  that 
fearful  threshold,  with  the  blood  still  glistening  on  it, 
—  he  dwelt  and  wandered  so  much  there,  that  he 
had  no  real  life  in  the  sombre  house  on  the  corner 
of  the  graveyard;  except  that  the  loneliness  of  the 
latter,  and  the  grim  Doctor  with  his  grotesque  sur- 
roundings, and  then  the  great  ugly  spider,  and  that 
odd,  inhuman  mixture  of  crusty  Hannah,  all  served 
to  remove  him  out  of  the  influences  of  common  life. 
Little  Elsie  was  all  that  he  had  to  keep  life  real,  and 
substantial ;  and  she,  a  child  so  much  younger  than 
he,  was  influenced  by  the  same  circumstances,  and 
still  more  by  himself,  so  that,  as  far  as  he  could  >  im- 
part himself  to  her,  he  led  her  hand  in  hand  through 
the  same  dream-scenery  amid  which  he  strayed  him- 
self. They  knew  not  another  child  in  town ;  the 
grim  Doctor  was  their  only  friend.  As  for  Ned,  this 
seclusion  had  its  customary  and  normal  effect  upon 
him ;  it  had  made  him  think  ridiculously  high  of  his 
own  gifts,  powers,  attainments,  and  at  the  same  time 
doubt  whether  they  would  pass  with  those  of  others ; 
it  made  him  despise  all  flesh,  as  if  he  were  of  a 
superior  race,  and  yet  have  an  idle  and  weak  fear  of 
coming  in  contact  with  them,  from  a  dread  of  his 
incompetency  to  cope  with  them ;  so  he  at  once 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.        Ill 

depreciated  and  exalted,  to  an  absurd  degree,  both 
himself  and  others. 

"  Ned,"  said  the  Doctor  to  him  one  day,  in  his 
gruffest  tone,  "  you  are  not  turning  out  to  be  the  boy 
I  looked  for  and  meant  to  make.  I  have  given  you 
sturdy  English  instruction,  and  solidly  grounded  you 
in  masters  that  the  poor  superficial  people  and  time 
merely  skim  over ;  I  looked  to  see  the  rudiments  of 
a  man  in  you,  by  this  time ;  and  you  begin  to  mope 
and  pule  as  if  your  babyhood  were  coming  back  on 
you.  You  seem  to  think  more  than  a  boy  of  your 
years  should ;  and  yet  it  is  not  manly  thought,  nor 
ever  will  be  so.  What  do  you  mean,  boy,  by  making 
all  my  care  of  you  come  to  nothing,  in  this  way  ? " 

"  I  do  my  best,  Doctor  Grim,"  said  Ned,  with  sul- 
len dignity.  "  What  you  teach  me,  I  learn.  What 
more  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what,  my  fine  fellow,"  quoth  Doctor 
Grim,  getting  rude,  as  was  his  habit.  "  You  disap- 
point me,  and  I  '11  not  bear  it.  T  want  you  to  be  a 
man  ;  and  I  '11  have  you  a  man  or  nothing.  If  I  had 
foreboded  such  a  fellow  as  you  turn  out  to  be,  I  never 
would  have  taken  you  from  the  place  where,  as  I 
oncfe  told  you,  I  found  you,  —  the  almshouse  ! " 

"0,  Doctor  Grim,  Doctor  Grim!"  cried  little 
Elsie,  in  a  tone  of  grief  and  bitter  reproach. 

Ned  had  risen  slowly,  as  the  Doctor  uttered  those 
last  words,  turning  as  white  as  a  sheet,  and  stood 
gazing  at  him,  with  large  eyes,  in  which  there  was  a 
calm  upbraiding ;  a  strange  dignity  was  in  his  child- 


112         DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

ish  aspect,  which  was  no  longer  childish,  but  seemed 
to  have  grown  older  all  in  a  moment. 

"Sir,"  added  the  Doctor,  incensed  at  the  boy's 
aspect,  "  there  is  nonsense  that  ought  to  be  whipt 
out  of  you." 

"  You  have  said  enough,  sir,"  said  the  boy.  "  Would 
to  God  you  had  left  me  where  you  found  me  ! 4  It 
was  not  my  fault  that  you  took  me  from  the  alms- 
house.  But  it  will  be  my  fault  if  I  ever  eat  another 
bit  of  your  bread,  or  stay  under  your  roof  an  hour 
longer." 

He  was  moving  towards  the  door,  but  little  Elsie 
sprung  upon  him  and  caught  him  round  the  neck, 
although  he  repelled  her  with  severe  dignity ;  and 
Doctor  Grimshawe,  after  a  look  at  the  group  in  which 
a  bitter  sort  of  mirth  and  mischief  struggled  with  a 
better  and  kindlier  sentiment,  at  last  flung  his  pipe 
into  the  chimney,  hastily  quaffed  the  remnant  of  a 
tumbler,  and  shuffled  after  Ned,  kicking  off  his  old 
slippers  in  his  hurry.  He  caught  the  boy  just  by 
the  door. 

"  Ned,  Ned,  my  boy,  I  'm  sorry  for  what  I  said," 
cried  he.  "  I  am  a  guzzling  old  blockhead,  arid  don't 
know  how  to  treat  a  gentleman  when  he  honors  me 
with  his  company.  It  is  not  in  my  blood  nor  breed- 
ing to  have  such  knowledge.  Ned,  you  will  make  a 
man,  and  I  lied  if  I  said  otherwise.  Come,  I'm 
sorry,  I'm  sorry." 

The  boy  was  easily  touched,  at  these  years,  as  a 
boy  ought  to  be ;  and  though  he  had  not  yet  for- 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         113 

given  the  grim  Doctor,  the  tears,  to  his  especial 
shame,  gushed  out  of  his  eyes  in  a  torrent,  and  his 
whole  frame  shook  with  sobs.  The  Doctor  caught 
him  in  his  arms,  and  hugged  him  to  his  old  tobacco- 
fragrant  dressing-gown,  hugged  him  like  a  bear,  as  he 
was  ;  so  that  poor  Ned  hardly  knew  whether  he  was 
embracing  him  with  his  love,  or  squeezing  him  to 
death  in  his  wrath. 

"Ned,"  said  he,  "I'm  not  going  to  live  a  great 
while  longer ;  I  seem  an  eternal  nuisance  to  you,  I 
know ;  but  it 's  not  so,  I  'm  mortal  and  I  feel  myself 
breaking  up.  Let  us  be  friends  while  I  live  ;  for  be- 
lieve me,  Ned,  I  Ve  done  as  well  by  you  as  I  knew, 
and  care  for  nothing,  love  nothing,  so  much  as  you. 
Little  Elsie  here,  yes.  I  love  her  too.  But  that's 
different.  You  are  a  boy,  and  will  be  a  man ;  and  a 
man  whom  I  destine  to  do  for  me  what  it  has  been 
the  object  of  my  life  to  achieve.  Let  us  be  friends. 
We  will  —  we  must  be  friends ;  and  when  old  Doctor 
Grim,  worthless  wretch  that  he  is,  sleeps  in  his  grave, 
you  shall  not  have  the  pang  of  having  parted  from 
him  in  unkindness.  Forgive  me,  Ned ;  and  not  only 
that,  but  love  me  better  than  ever ;  for  though  I  am 
a  hasty  old  wretch,  I  am  not  altogether  evil  as  re- 
gards you." 

I  know  not  whether  the  Doctor  would  have  said 
all  this,  if  the  day  had  not  been  pretty  well  ad- 
vanced, and  if  his  potations  had  not  been  many  ;  but, 
at  any  rate,  he  spoke  no  more  than  he  felt,  and  his 
emotions  thrilled  through  the  sensitive  system  of  the 


114         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

boy,  and  quite  melted  him  down.  He  forgave  Doctor 
Grim,  and,  as  he  asked,  loved  him  better  than  ever ; 
and  so  did  Elsie.  Then  it  was  so  sweet,  so  good,,  to 
have  had  this  one  outgush  of  affection,  —  he,  poor 
child,  who  had  110  memory  of  mother's  kisses,  or  of 
being  cared  for  out  of  tenderness,  and  whose  heart 
had  been  hungry,  all  his  life,  for  some  such  thing ; 
and  probably  Doctor  Grim,  in  his  way,  had  the  same 
kind  of  enjoyment  of  this  passionate  crisis ;  so  that 
though,  the  next  day,  they  all  three  looked  at  one 
another  a  little  ashamed,  yet  it  had  some  remote 
analogy  to  that  delicious  embarrassment  of  two  lovers, 
at  their  first  meeting  after  they  know  alL 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         115 


CHAPTEE  X. 

IT  is  very  remarkable  that  Ned  had  so  much  good 
in  him  as  we  find  there ;  in  the  first  place,  born  as 
he  seemed  to  be  of  a  wild,  vagrant  stock,  a  seedling 
sown  by  the  breezes,  and  falling  among  the  rocks  and 
sands  ;  the  growing  up  without  a  mother  to  cultivate 
his  tenderness  with  kisses  and  the  inestimable,  inevi- 
table love  of  love  breaking  out  on  all  little  occasions, 
without  reference  to  merit  or  demerit,  unfailing 
whether  or  no;  mother's  faith  in  excellences,  the 
buds  which  were  yet  invisible  to  all  other  eyes,  but 
to  which  her  warm  faith  was  the  genial  sunshine 
necessary  to  their  growth;  mother's  generous  inter- 
pretation of  all  that  was  doubtful  in  him,  and  which 
might  turn  out  good  or  bad,  according  as  should  be 
believed  of  it;  mother's  pride  in  whatever  the  boy 
accomplished,  and  unfailing  excuses,  explanations, 
apologies,  so  satisfactory,  for  all  his  failures ;  mother's 
deep  intuitive  insight,  which  should  see  the  perma- 
nent good  beneath  all  the  appearance  of  temporary 
evil,  being  wiser  through  her  love  than  the  wisest 
sage  could  be,  —  the  dullest,  homeliest  mother  than 
the  wisest  sage.  The  Creator,  apparently,  has  set  a 
little  of  his  own  infinite  wisdom  and  love  (which  are 
one)  in  a  mother's  heart,  so  that  no  child,  in  the 


116         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

common  course  of  things,  should  grow  up  without 
some  heavenly  instruction.  Instead  of  all  this,  and 
the  vast  deal  more  that  mothers  do  for  children,  there 
had  been  only  the  gruff,  passionate  Doctor,  without 
sense  of  religion,  with  only  a  fitful  tenderness,  with 
years'  length  between  the  fits,  so  fiercely  critical,  so 
wholly  unradiant  of  hope,  misanthropic,  savagely 
morbid.  Yes ;  there  was  little  Elsie  too ;  it  must 
have  been  that  she  was  the  boy's  preserver,  being 
childhood,  sisterhood,  womanhood,  all  that  there  had 
been  for  him  of  human  life,  and  enough — he  being 
naturally  of  such  good  stuff —  to  keep  him  good. 
He  had  lost  much,  but  not  all :  be  was  not  nearly 
what  he  might  have  been  under  better  auspices; 
flaws  and  imperfections  there  were,  in  abundance, 
great  uncultivated  wastes  and  wildernesses  in  his 
moral  nature,  tangled  wilds  where  there  might  have 
been  stately,  venerable  religious  groves;  but  there 
was  no  rank  growth  of  evil.  That  unknown  mother, 
that  had  no  opportunity  to  nurse  her  boy,  must  have 
had  gentle  and  noblest  qualities  to  endow  him  with  ; 
a  noble  father,  too,  a  long,  unstained  descent,  one 
would  have  thought.  Was  this  an  almshouse  child? 

Doctor  Grim  knew,  very  probably,  that  there  was 
all  this  on  the  womanly  side  that  was  wanting  to 
Ned's  occasion ;  and  very  probably,  too,  being  a  man 
not  without  insight,  he  was  aware  that  tender 
treatment,  as  a  mother  bestows  it,  tends  likewise  to 
foster  strength,  and  manliness  of  character,  as  well  as 
softer  developments ;  but  all  this  he  could  not  have 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         117 

supplied,  and  now  as  little  as  ever.  But  there  was 
something  else  which  Ned  ought  to  have,  and  might 
have ;  and  this  was  intercourse  with  his  kind,  free 
circulation,  free  air,  instead  of  the  stived-up  house, 
with  the  breeze  from  the  graveyard  blowing  over  it, 
—  to  be  drawn  out  of  himself,  and  made  to  share  the 
life  of  many,  to  be  introduced,  at  one  remove,  to  the 
world  with  which  he  was  to  contend.  To  this  end, 
shortly  after  the  scene  of  passion  and  reconciliation 
above  described,  the  Doctor  took  the  resolution  of 
sending  Ned  to  an  academy,  famous  in  that  day,  and 
still  extant.  Accordingly  they  all  three  —  the  grim 
Doctor,  Ned,  and  Elsie  —  set  forth,  one  day  of  spring, 
leaving  the  house  to  crusty  Hannah  and  the  great 
spider,  in  a  carryall,  being  the  only  excursion  involv- 
ing a  night's  absence  that  either  of  the  two  children 
remembered  from  the  house  by  the  graveyard,  as  at 
nightfall  they  saw  the  modest  pine-built  edifice,  with 
its  cupola  and  bell,  where  Ned  was  to  be  initiated 
into  the  schoolboy.  The  Doctor,  remembering  per- 
haps days  spent  in  some  gray,  stately,  legendary  great 
school  of  England,  instinct  with  the  boyhood  of  men 
afterwards  great,  puffed  forth  a  depreciating  curse 
upon  it ;  but  nevertheless  made  all  arrangements  for 
Ned's  behoof,  and  next  morning  prepared  to  leave 
him  there. 

"Ned,  my  son,  good  by,"  cried  he,  shaking  the 
little  fellow's  hand  as  he  stood  tearful  and  wistful 
beside  the  chaise  shivering  at  the  loneliness  which 
he  felt  settling  around  him, — a  new  loneliness  to  him, 


118        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

—  the  loneliness  of  a  crowd.  "  Do  not  be  cast  down, 
my  boy.  Face  the  world ;  grasp  the  thistle  strongly, 
and  it  will  sting  you  the  less.  Have  faith  in  your 
own  fist !  Fear  no  ma*i  !  Have  no  secret  plot ! 
Never  do  what  you  think  wrong !  If  hereafter  you 
learn  to  know  that  Doctor  Grim  was  a  bad  man,  for- 
give him,  and  be  a  better  one  yourself.  Good  by, 
and  if  iny  blessing  be  good  for  anything,  in  God's 
name,  I  invoke  it  upon  you  heartily." 

Little  Elsie  was  sobbing,  and  flung  lier  arms  about 
Ned's  neck,  and  he  his  about  hers ;  so  that  they 
parted  without  a  word.  As  they  drove  away,  a  sin- 
gular sort  of  presentiment  came  over  the  boy,  as  he 
stood  looking  after  them. 

"It  is  all  over,  —  all  over,"  said  he  to  himself: 
"  Doctor  Grim  and  little  Elsie  are  gone  out  of  my  life. 
They  leave  me  and  will  never  come  back,  —  not  they 
to  me,  not  I  to  them.  O,  how  cold  the  world  is ! 
Would  we  three  —  the  Doctor,  and  Elsie,  and  I  — 
could  have  lain  down  in  a  row,  in  the  old  graveyard, 
close  under  the  eaves  of  the  house,  and  let  the  grass 
grow  over  us.  The  world  is  cold ;  and  I  am  an  alms- 
house  child." 

The  house  by  the  graveyard  seemed  dismal  now,  no 
doubt,  to  little  Elsie,  who,  being  of  a  cheerful  nature 
herself,  (common  natures  often  having  this  delusion 
about  a  home,)  had  grown  up  with  the  idea  that  it  was 
the  most  delightful  spot  in  the  world ;  the  place  fullest 
of  pleasant  play,  and  of  household  love  (because  her 
own  love  welled  over  out  of  her  heart,  like  a  spring 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         119 

in  a  barrel) ;  the  place  where  everybody  was  kind 
and  good,  the  world  beyond  its  threshold  appearing 
perhaps  strange  and  sombre ;  the  spot  where  it  was 
pleasantest  to  be,  for  its  own  mere  sake;  the  dim 
old,  homely  place,  so  warm  and  cosey  in  winter,  so 
cool  in  summer.  Who  else  was  fortunate  enough  to 
have  such  a  home, —  with  that  nice,  kind,  beautiful 
Ned,  and  that  dear,  kind,  gentle,  old  Doctor  Grim, 
with  his  sweet  ways,  so  wise,  so  upright,  so  good,  be- 
yond all  other  men  ?  0,  happy  girl  that  she  was,  to 
have  grown  up  in  such  a  home !  Was  there  ever  any 
other  house  with  such  cosey  nooks  in  it  ?  Such  prob- 
ably were  the  feelings  of  good  little  Elsie  about  this 
place,  which  has  seemed  to  us  so  dismal ;  for  the 
home  feeling  in  the  child's  heart,  her  warm,  cheerful, 
affectionate  nature,  was  a  magic,  so  far  as  she  herself 
was  concerned,  and  made  all  the  house  and  its  inmates 
over  after  her  own  fashion.  But  now  that  little  Ned 
was  gone,  there  came  a  change.  She  moped  about 
the  house,  and,  for  the  first  time,  suspected  it  was 
dismal. 

As  for  the  grim  Doctor,  there  did  not  appear  to  be 
much  alteration  in  that  hard  old  character ;  perhaps 
he  drank  a  little  more,  though  that  was  doubtful,  be- 
cause it  is  difficult  to  see  where  he  could  find  niches 
to  stick  in  more  frequent  drinks.  Nor  did  he  more 
frequently  breathe  through  the  pipe.  He  fell  into 
desuetude,  however,  of  his  daily  walk,1  and  sent  Elsie 
to  play  by  herself  in  the  graveyard  (a  dreary  busi- 
ness enough  for  the  poor  child)  instead  of  taking  her 


120         DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

to  country  or  seaside  himself.  He  was  more  savage 
and  blasphemous,  sometimes,  than  he  had  been  here- 
tofore known  to  be ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  was 
sometimes  softer,  with  a  kind  of  weary  consenting  to 
circumstances,  intervals  of  helpless  resignation,  when 
he  no  longer  fought  and  struggled  in  his  heart.  He 
did  not  seem  to  be  alive  all  the  time ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  was  sometimes  a  good  deal  too  much 
alive,  and  could  not  bear  his  potations  as  well  as  he 
used  to  do,  and  was  overheard  blaspheming  at  him- 
self for  being  so  weakly,  and  having  a  brain  that 
could  not  bear  a  thimbleful,  and  growing  to  be  a 
milksop  like  Colcord,  as  he  said.  This  person,  of 
whom  the  Doctor  and  his  young  people  had  had  such 
a  brief  experience,  appeared  nevertheless  to  hang 
upon  his  remembrance  in  a  singular  way,  —  the  more 
singular  as  there  was  little  resemblance  between 
them,  or  apparent  possibility  of  sympathy.  Little 
Elsie  was  startled  to  hear  Doctor  Grim  sometimes  call 
out,  "  Colcord  !  Colcord ! "  as  if  he  were  summoning 
a  spirit  from  some  secret  place.  He  muttered,  sitting 
by  himself,  long,  indistinct  masses  of  talk,  in  which 
this  name  was  discernible,  and  other  names.  Going 
on  mumbling,  by  the  hour  together,  great  masses  of 
vague  trouble,  in  which,  if  it  only  could  have  been 
unravelled  and  put  in  order,  no  doubt  all  the  secrets 
of  his  life,  —  secrets  of  wrath,  guilt,  vengeance,  love, 
hatred,  all  beaten  up  together,  and  the  best  quite 
spoiled  by  the  worst,  might  have  been  found.  His 
mind  evidently  wandered.  Sometimes,  he  seemed  to 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         121 

be  holding  conversation  with,  unseen  interlocutors, 
and  almost  invariably,  so  far  as  could  be  gathered,  he 
was  bitter,  and  then  sat,  immitigable,  pouring  out 
wrath  and  terror,  denunciating,  tyrannical,  speaking  as 
to  something  that  lay  at  his  feet,  but  which  he  would 
not  spare.2  Then  suddenly,  he  would  start,  look 
round  the  dark  old  study,  upward  to  the  dangling 
spider  overhead,  and  then  at  the  quiet  little  girl,  who, 
try  as  she  might,  could  not  keep  her  affrighted  looks 
from  his  face,  and  always  met  his  eyes  with  a  loyal 
frankness  and  uuyielded  faith  in  him. 

"  Oh,  you  little  jade,  what  have  you  been  over- 
hearing ? " 

"  Nothing,  Doctor  Grim,  —  nothing  that  I  could 
make  out." 

"  Make  out  as  much  as  you  can,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
not  afraid  of  you." 

"  Afraid  of  little  Elsie,  dear  Doctor  Grim  !  " 

"  Neither  of  you,  nor  of  the  Devil,"  murmured  the 
Doctor,  —  "  of  nobody  but  little  Ned  and  that  milk- 
sop Colcord.  If  I  have  wronged  anybody  it  is  them. 
As  for  the  rest,  let  the  day  of  judgment  come.  Doctor 
Grim  is  ready  to  fling  down  liis  burden  at  the  judg- 
ment seat  and  have  it  sorted  there." 

Then  he  would  lie  back  in  his  chair  and  look  up 
at  the  great  spider,  who  (or  else  it  was  Elsie's  fancy) 
seemed  to  be  making  great  haste  in  those  days,  fill- 
ing out  his  web  as  if  he  had  less  time  than  was 
desirable  for  such  a  piece  of  work. 

One  morning  the  Doctor  arose  as  usual,  and  after 


122        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

breakfast  (at  which  he  ate  nothing,  and  even  after 
filling  his  coffee-cup  half  with  brandy,  half  with 
coffee,  left  it  untouched,  save  sipping  a  little  out  of 
a  teaspoon)  he  went  to  the  study  (with  a  rather  un- 
steady gait,  chiefly  remarkable  because  it  was  so 
early  in  the  day),  and  there  established  himself  with 
his  pipe,  as  usual,  and  his  medical  books  and  ma- 
chines, and  his  manuscript.  But  he  seemed  troubled, 
irresolute,  weak,  and  at  last  he  blew  out  a  volley 
of  oaths,  with  no  apparent  appropriateness,  and  then 
seemed  to  be  communing  with  himself. 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  carry  this  on  any  further,"  said 
he,  fiercely,  in  a  decided  tone,  as  if  he  had  taken  a 
resolution.  "  Elsie,  my  girl,  come  and  kiss  me." 

.  So  Elsie  kissed  him,  amid  all  the  tobacco-smoke 
which  was  curling  out  of  his  mouth,  as  if  there  were 
a  half-extinguished  furnace  in  his  inside. 

"  Elsie,  my  little  girl,  I  mean  to  die  to-day,"  said 
the  old  man. 

"  To  die,  dear  Doctor  Grim  ?     O,  no  !     0,  no  !  " 

"  O,  yes !  Elsie,"  said  the  Doctor,  in  a  very  posi- 
tive tone.  "  I  have  kept  myself  alive  by  main  force 
these  three  weeks,  and  I  find  it  hardly  worth  the 
trouble.  It  requires  so  much  exercise  of  will ;  —  and 
I  am  weary,  weary.  The  pipe  does  not  taste  good, 
the  brandy  bewilders  me.  Ned  is  gone,  too ;  —  I  have 
nothing  else  to  do.  I  have  wrought  this  many  a 
year  for  an  object,  and  now,  taking  all  things  into 
consideration,  I  don't  know  whether  to  execute  it  or 
no.  Ned  is  gone  ;  there  is  nobody  but  my  little 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        123 

Elsie,  —  a  good  child,  but  not  quite  enough  to  live 
for.  I  will  let  myself  die,  therefore,  before  sunset." 

"  0,  no  !  Doctor  Grim.  Let  us  send  for  Ned,  and 
you  will  think  it  worth  the  trouble  of  living." 

"  ISTo,  Elsie,  I  want  no  one  near  my  death-bed ; 
when  I  have  finished  a  little  business,  you  must  go 
out  of  the  room,  and  I  will  turn  my  face  to  the  wall, 
and  say  good-night.  But  first  send  crusty  Hannah 
for  Mr.  Pickering." 

He  was  a  lawyer  of  the  town,  a  man  of  classical 
and  antiquarian  tastes,  as  well  as  legal  acquirement, 
and  some  of  whose  pursuits  had  brought  him  and 
Doctor  Grim  occasionally  together.  Besides  calling 
this  gentleman,  crusty  Hannah  (of  her  own  motion, 
but  whether  out  of  good  will  to  the  poor  Doctor 
Grim,  or  from  a  tendency  to  mischief  inherent  in 
such  unnatural  mixtures  as  hers)  summoned,  like- 
wise, in  all  haste,  a  medical  man,  —  and,  as  it  hap- 
'pened,  the  one  who  had  taken  a  most  decidedly 
hostile  part  to  our  Doctor,  —  and  a  clergyman,  who 
had  often  devoted  our  poor  friend  to  the  infernal 
regions,  almost  by  name,  in  his  sermons ;  a  kind- 
ness, to  say  the  truth,  which  the  Doctor  had  fully 
reciprocated  in  many  anathemas  against  the  clergy- 
man. These  two  worthies,  arriving  simultaneously, 
and  in  great  haste,  were  forthwith  ushered  to  where 
the  Doctor  lay  half  reclining  in  his  study  ;  and  upon 
showing  their  heads,  the  Doctor  flew  into  an  awful 
rage,  threatening,  in  his  customary  improper  way, 
when  angry,  to  make  them  smell  the  infernal  regions, 


124        DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S   SECRET. 

and  proceeding  to  put  his  threats  into  execution  by 
flinging  his  odorous  tobacco-pipe  in  the  face  of  the 
medical  man,  and  rebaptizing  the  clergyman  with  a 
half-emptied  tumbler  of  brandy  and  water,  and  send- 
ing a  terrible  vociferation  of  oaths  after  them  both, 
as  they  clattered  hastily  down  the  stairs.  Really, 
that  crusty  Hannah  must  have  been  the  Devil,  for 
she  stood  grinning  and  chuckling  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  courtesying  grotesquely. 

"  He  terrible  man,  our  old  Doctor  Grim,"  quoth 
crusty  Hannah.  "  He  drive  us  all  to  the  wicked 
place  before  him." 

This,  however,  was  the  final  outbreak  of  poor 
Doctor  Grim.  Indeed,  he  almost  went  off  at  once 
in  the  exhaustion  that  succeeded.  The  lawyer  ar- 
rived shortly  after,  and  was  shut  up  with  him  for 
a  considerable  space ;  after  which  crusty  Hannah 
was  summoned,  and  desired  to  call  two  indifferent 
persons  from  the  street,  as  witnesses  to  a  will  ; 
and  this  document  was  duly  executed,  and  given 
into  the  possession  of  the  lawyer.  This  done,  and 
the  lawyer  having  taken  his  leave,  the  grim  Doctor 
desired,  and  indeed  commanded  imperatively,  that 
crusty  Hannah  should  quit  the  room,  having  first  — 
we  are  sorry  to  say — placed  the  brandy-bottle  within 
reach  of  his  hand,  and  leaving  him  propped  up  in  his 
arm-chair,  in  which  he  leaned  back,  gazing  up  at  the 
great  spider,  who  was  dangling  overhead.  As  the 
door  closed  behind  crusty  Hannah's  grinning  and  yet 
strangely  interested  face,  the  Doctor  caught  a  glimpse 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         125 

of  little  Elsie  in  the  passage,  bathed  in  tears,  and 
lingering  and  looking  earnestly  into  the  chamber.3 

Seeing  the  poor  little  girl,  the  Doctor  cried  out  to 
her,  half  wrathfully,  half  tenderly,  "  Don't  cry,  you 
little  wretch  !  Come  and  kiss  me  once  more."  So 
Elsie,  restraining  her  grief  with  a  great  effort,  ran  to 
him  and  gave  him  a  last  kiss. 

"  Tell  Ned,"  said  the  Doctor  solemnly,  "  to  think 
no  more  of  the  old  English  hall,  or  of  the  bloody 
footstep,  or  of  the  silver  key,  or  any  of  all  that  non- 
sense. Good  by,  my  dear ! "  Then  he  said,  with 
his  thunderous  and  imperative  tone,  "Let  no  one 
come  near  me  till  to-morrow  morning." 

So  that  parting  was  over ;  but  still  the  poor  little 
desolate  child  hovered  by  the  study  door  all  day 
long,  afraid  to  enter,  afraid  to  disobey,  but  unable  to 
go.  Sometimes  she  heard  the  Doctor  muttering,  as 
was  his  wont ;  once  she  fancied  he  was  praying,  and 
dropping  on  her  knees,  she  also  prayed  fervently,  and 
perhaps  acceptably ;  then,  all  at  once,  the  Doctor 
called  out,  in  a  loud  voice,  "  No,  Ned,  no.  Drop  it, 
drop  it ! " 

And  then  there  was  an  utter  silence,  unbroken 
forevermore  by  the  lips  that  had  uttered  so  many 
objectionable  things. 

And  finally,  after  an  interval  which  had  been  pre- 
scribed by  the  grim  Doctor,  a  messenger  was  sent  by 
the  lawyer  to  our  friend  Ned,  to  inform  him  of  this 
sad  event,  and  to  bring  him  back  temporarily  to 
town,  for  the  purpose  of  hearing  what  were  his  pros- 


126        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

pects,  and  what  disposition  was  now  to  be  made  of 
him.  We  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  grief, 
astonishment,  and  almost  incredulity  of  Ned,  on  dis- 
covering that  a  person  so  mixed  up  with  and  built 
into  his  whole  life  as  the  stalwart  Doctor  Grimshawe 
had  vanished  out  of  it  thus  unexpectedly,  like  some- 
thing thin  as  a  vapor, — like  a  red  flame,  that  cue 
[instant]  is  very  bright  in  its  lurid  ray,  and  then  is 
nothing  at  all,  amid  the  darkness.  To  the  poor  boy's 
still  further  grief  and  astonishment,  he  found,  on 
reaching  the  spot  that  he  called  home,  that  little 
Elsie  (as  the  lawyer  gave  him  to  understand,  by  the 
express  orders  of  the  Doctor,  and  for  reasons  of  great 
weight)  had  been  conveyed  away  by  a  person  under 
whose  guardianship  she  was  placed,  and  that  Ned 
could  not  be  informed  of  the  place.  Even  crusty 
Hannah  had  been  provided  for  and  disposed  of,  and 
was  no  longer  to  be  found.  Mr.  Pickering  explained 
to  Ned  the  dispositions  in  his  favor  which  had  been 
made  by  his  deceased  friend,  who,  out  of  a  moderate 
property,  had  left  him  the  means  of  obtaining  as 
complete  an  education  as  the  country  would  afford, 
and  of  supporting  himself  until  his  own  exertions 
would  be  likely  to  give  him  the  success  which  his 
abilities  were  calculated  to  win.  The  remainder  of 
his  property  (a  less  sum  than  that  thus  disposed  of) 
was  given  to  little  Elsie,  with  the  exception  of  a 
small  provision  to  crusty  Hannah,  with  the  recom- 
mendation from  the  Doctor  that  she  should  retire  and 
spend  the  remainder  of  her  life  among  her  own  peo- 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         127 

pie.  There  was  likewise  a  certain  sum  left  for  the 
purpose  of  editing  and  printing  (with  a  dedication  to 
the  Medical  Society  of  the  State)  an  account  of  the 
process  of  distilling  balm  from  cobwebs  ;  the  bequest 
being  worded  in  so  singular  a  way  that  it  was  just  as 
impossible  as  it  had  ever  been  to  discover  whether 
the  grim  Doctor  was  in  earnest  or  no. 

What  disappointed  the  boy,  in  a  greater  degree 
than  we  shall  try  to  express,  was  the  lack  of  any- 
thing in  reference  to  those  dreams  and  castles  of  the 
air,  —  any  explanation  of  his  birth ;  so  that  he  was 
left  with  no  trace  of  it,  except  just  so  far  as  the  alrns- 
house  whence  the  Doctor  had  taken  him.  There  all 
traces  of  his  name  and  descent  vanished,  just  as  if  he 
had  been  made  up  of  the  air,  as  an  aerolite  seems  to 
be  before  it  tumbles  on  the  earth  with  its  mysterious 
iron. 

The  poor  boy,  in  his  bewilderment,  had  not  yet 
come  to  feel  what  his  grief  was ;  it  was  not  to  be 
conceived,  in  a  few  days,  that  he  was  deprived  of 
every  person,  thing,  or  thought  that  had  hitherto 
kept  his  heart  warm.  He  tried  to  make  himself 
feel  it,  yearning  for  this  grief  as  for  his  sole  friend. 
Being,  for  the  present,  domiciled  with  the  lawyer,  he 
obtained  the  key  of  his  former  home,  and  went 
through  the  desolate  house  that  he  knew  so  well,  and 
which  now  had  such  a  silent,  cold,  familiar  strange- 
ness, with  none  in  it,  though  the  ghosts  of  the  grim 
Doctor,  of  laughing  little  Elsie,  of  crusty  Hannah,  — 
dead  and  alive  alike,  —  were  all  there,  and  his  own 


128         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

ghost  among  them ;  for  he  himself  was  dead,  that  is, 
his  former  self,  which  he  recognized  as  himself,  had 
passed  away,  as  they  were.  In  the  study  everything 
looked  as  formerly,  yet  with  a  sort  of  unreality,  as  if 
it  would  dissolve  and  vanish  on  being  touched  ;  and, 
indeed,  it  partly  proved  so ;  for  over  the  Doctor's 
chair  seemed  still  to  hang  the  great  spider,  but  on 
looking  closer  at  it,  and  finally  touching  it  with  the 
end  of  the  Doctor's  stick,  Ned  discovered  that  it  was 
merely  the  skin,  shell,  apparition,  of  the  real  spider,4 
the  reality  of  whom,  it  is  to  be  supposed,  had  fol- 
lowed the  grim  Doctor,  whithersoever  he  had  gone. 

A  thought  struck  Ned  while  he  was  here ;  he  re- 
membered the  secret  niche  in  the  wall,  where  he 
had  once  seen  the  Doctor  deposit  some  papers.  He 
looked,  and  there  they  were.  Who  was  the  heir  of 
those  papers,  if  not  he  ?  If  there  were  anything 
wrong  in  appropriating  them,  it  was  not  perceptible 
to  him  in  the  desolation,  anxiety,  bewilderment,  and 
despair  of  that  moment.  He  grasped  the  papers,  and 
hurried  from  the  room  and  down  the  stairs,  afraid  to 
look  round,  and  half  expecting  to  hear  the  gruff  voice 
of  Doctor  Grim  thundering  after  him  to  bring  them 
back. 

Then  Ned  went  out  of  the  back  door,  and  found 
his  way  to  the  Doctor's  new  grave,  which,  as  it  hap- 
pened, was  dug  close  beside  that  one  which  occupied 
the  place  of  the  one  which  the  stranger  had  come  to 
seek ;  and,  as  if  to  spite  the  Doctor  s  professional 
antipathies,  it  lay  beside  a  grave  of  an  old  physician 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         129 

and  surgeon,  one  Doctor  Summerton,  who  used  to 
help  diseases  and  kill  patients  above  a  hundred  years 
ago.  But  Doctor  Grim  was  undisturbed  by  these 
neighbors,  and  apparently  not  more  by  the  grief  of 
poor  little  Ned,  who  hid  his  face  in  the  crumbly 
e^rth  of  the  grave,  and  the  sods  that  had  not  begun 
to  grow,  and  wept  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 

But  the  heart  never  breaks  on  the  first  grave  ;  and, 
after  many  graves,  it  gets  so  obtuse  that  nothing  can 
break  it. 

And  now  let  the  mists  settle  down  over  the  trail  of 
our  story,  hiding  it  utterly  on  its  onward  course,  for 
a  long  way  to  come,  until,  after  many  years,  they 
may  disperse  and  discover  something  which,  were  it 
worth  while  to  follow  it  through  all  that  obscurity, 
would  prove  to  be  the  very  same  track  which  that 
boy  was  treading  when  we  last  saw  him, —  though  it 
may  have  lain  over  land  and  sea  since  then ;  but  the 
footsteps  that  trod  there  are  treading  here. 


130        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTEK  XL 

k 

THERE  is  —  or  there  was,  now  many  years  ago, 
and  a  few  years  also  it  was  still  extant  —  a  cham- 
ber, which  when  I  think  of,  it  seems  to  me  like 
entering  a  deep  recess  of  my  own  consciousness,  a 
deep  cave  of  my  nature ;  so  much  have  I  thought  of 
it  and  its  inmate,  through  a  considerable  period  of 
my  life.  After  I  had  seen  it  long  in  fancy,  then  I 
saw  it  in  reality,  with  my  waking  eyes  ;  and  ques- 
tioned with  myself  whether  I  was  really  awake. 

Not  that  it  was  a  picturesque  or  stately  chamber ; 
not  in  the  least.  It  was  dim,  dim  as  a  melancholy 
mood ;  so  dim,  to  come  to  particulars,  that,  till  you 
were  accustomed  to  that  twilight  medium,  the  print 
of  a  book  looked  all  blurred  ;  a  pin  was  an  indis- 
tinguishable object ;  the  face  of  your  familiar  friend, 
or  your  dearest  beloved  one,  would  be  unrecognizable 
across  it,  and  the  figures,  so  warm  and  radiant  with 
life  and  heart,  would  seem  like  the  faint  gray  shadows 
of  our  thoughts,  brooding  in  age  over  youthful 
images  of  joy  and  love.  Nevertheless,  the  chamber, 
though  so  difficult  to  see  across,  was  small.  You 
detected  that  it  was  within  very  narrow  boundaries, 
though  you  could  not  precisely  see  them ;  only  you 
felt  yourself  shut  in,  compressed,  impeded,  in  the 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         131 

deep  centre  of  something ;  and  you  longed  for  a 
breath  of  fresh  air.  Some  articles  of  furniture  there 
seemed  to  be  ;  but  in  this  dim  medium,  to  which  we 
are  unaccustomed,  it  is  not  well  to  try  to  make  out 
what  they  were,  or  anything  else  —  now  at  least  — 
about  the  chamber.  Only  one  thing ;  small  as  the 
light  was,  it  was  rather  wonderful  how  there  came 
to  be  any ;  for  no  windows  were  apparent ;  no  com- 
munication with  the  outward  day.1 

Looking  into  this  chamber,  in  fancy  it  is  some 
time  before  we  who  come  out  of  the  broad  sunny 
daylight  of  the  world  discover  that  it  has  an  inmate. 
Yes,  there  is  some  one  within,  but  where  ?  We  know 
it ;  but  do  not  precisely  see  him,  only  a  presence  is 
impressed  upon  us.  It  is  in  that  corner;  no,  not 
there  ;  only  a  heap  of  darkness  and  an  old  antique 
coffer,  that,  as  we  look  closely  at  it,  seems  to  be  made 
of  carved  wood.  Ah  !  he  is  in  that  other  dim  corner ; 
and  now  that  we  steal  close  to  him,  we  see  him  ;  a 
young  man,  pale,  flung  upon  a  sort  of  mattress-couch. 
He  seems  in  alarm  at  something  or  other.  He 
trembles,  he  listens,  as  if  for  voices.  It  must  be  a 
great  peril,  indeed,  that  can  haunt  him  thus  and 
make  him  feel  afraid  in  such  a  seclusion  as  you  feel 
this  to  be ;  but  there  he  is,  tremulous,  and  so  pale 
that  really  his  face  is  almost  visible  in  the  gloomy 
twilight.  How  came  he  here  ?  Who  is  he  ?  What 
does  he  tremble  at  ?  In  this  duskiness  we  cannot 
tell.  Only  that  he  is  a  young  man,  in  a  state  of 
nervous  excitement  and  alarm,  looking  about  him, 


132         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

starting  to  his  feet,  sometimes  standing  and  staring 
about  him. 

Has  he  been  living  here  ?  Apparently  not ;  for 
see,  he  has  a  pair  of  long  riding-boots  on,  coming  up 
to  the  knees ;  they  are  splashed  with  mud,  as  if  he 
had  ridden  hastily  through  foul  ways ;  the  spurs  are 
on  the  heel.  A  riding-dress  upon  him.  Ha !  is 
that  blood  upon  the  hand  which  he  clasps  to  his 
forehead. 

What  more  do  you  perceive  ?  Nothing,  the  light 
is  so  dim  ;  but  only  we  wonder  where  is  the  door, 
and  whence  the  light  comes.  There  is  a  strange 
abundance  of  spiders,  too,  we  perceive ;  spinning  their 
webs  here,  as  if  they  would  entrammel  something  in 
them.  A  mouse  has  run  across  the  floor,  apparently, 
but  it  is  too  dim  to  detect  him,  or  to  detect  anything 
beyond  the  limits  of  a  very  doubtful  vagueness.  We 
do  not  even  know  whether  what  we  seem  to  have 
seen  is  really  so ;  whether  the  man  is  young,  or  old, 
or  what  his  surroundings  are ;  and  there  is  something 
so  disagreeable  in  this  seclusion,  this  stifled  atmos- 
phere, that  we  should  be  loath  to  remain  here  long 
enough  to  make  ourselves  certain  of  what  was  a 
mystery.  Let  us  forth  into  the  broad,  genial  day- 
light, for  there  is  magic,  there  is  a  devilish,  subtile 
influence,  in  this  chamber;  which,  I  have  reason  to 
believe,  makes  it  dangerous  to  remain  here.  There 
is  a  spell  on  the  threshold.  Heaven  keep  us  safe 
from  it ! 

Hark !  has   a   door  unclosed  ?     Is   there   another 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         133 

human  being  in  the  room  ?  We  have  now  become  so 
accustomed  to  the  dim  medium  that  we  distinguish  a 
man  of  mean  exterior,  with  a  look  of  habitual  sub- 
servience that  seems  like  that  of  an  English  serving- 
man,  or  a  person  in  some  menial  situation ;  decent, 
quiet,  neat,  softly-behaved,  but  yet  with  a  certain 
hard  and  questionable  presence,  which  we  would  not 
well  like  to  have  near  us  in  the  room. 

"  Am  I  safe  ? "  asks  the  inmate  of  the  prison- 
chamber. 

"  Sir,  there  has  been  a  search." 

"  Leave  the  pistols,"  said  the  voice. 

Again,2  after  this  time,  a  long  time  extending  to 
years,  let  us  look  back  into  that  dim  chamber,  wher- 
ever in  the  world  it  was,  into  which  we  had  a 
glimpse,  and  where  we  saw  apparently  a  fugitive. 
How  looks  it  now  ?  Still  dim,  —  perhaps  as  dim  as 
ever,  —  but  our  eyes,  or  our  imagination,  have  gained 
an  acquaintance,  a  customariness,  with  the  medium ; 
so  that  we  can  discern  things  now  a  little  more  dis- 
tinctly than  of  old.  Possibly,  there  may  have  been 
something  cleared  away  that  obstructed  the  light ;  at 
any  rate,  we  see  now  the  whereabouts  —  better  than 
we  did.  It  is  an  oblong  room,  lofty  but  narrow,  and 
some  ten  paces  in  length;  its  floor  is  heavily  car- 
peted, so  that  the  tread  makes  no  sound ;  it  is  hung 
with  old  tapestry,  or  carpet,  wrought  with  the  hand 
long  ago,  and  still  retaining  much  of  the  ancient 
colors,  where  there  was  no  sunshine  to  fade  them ; 
worked  on  them  is  some  tapestried  story,  done  by 


134        DOCTOR   GRIMSII AWE'S  SECRET. 

Catholic  hands,  of  saints  or  devils,  looking  each 
equally  grave  and  solemnly.  The  light,  whence  conies 
it  ?  There  is  no  window ;  but  it  seems  to  come 
through  a  stone,  or  something  like  it, —  a  dull  gray 
medium,  that  makes  noonday  look  like  evening  twi- 
light. Though  sometimes  there  is  an  effect  as  if 
something  were  striving  to  melt  itself  through  this 
dull  medium,  and  —  never  making  a  shadow  —  yet 
to  produce  the  effect  of  a  cloud  gathering  thickly 
over  the  sun.  There  is  a  chimney ;  yes,  a  little  grate 
in  which  burns  a  coal  fire,  a  dim  smouldering  fire, 
it  might  be  an  illumination,  if  that  were  desirable. 

What  is  the  furniture  ?  An  antique  chair,  —  one 
chair,  no  more.  A  table,  many-footed,  of  dark  wood  ; 
it  holds  writing-materials,  a  book,  too,  on  its  face, 
with  the  dust  gathered  on  its  back.  There  is,  more- 
over, a  sort  of  antique  box,  or  coffer,  of  some  dark 
wood,  that  seems  to  have  been  wrought  or  carved 
with  skill,  wondrous  skill,  of  some  period  when  the 
art  of  carving  wainscot  with  arms  and  devices  was 
much  practised;  so  that  on  this  coffer  —  some  six 
feet  long  it  is,  and  two  or  three  broad  —  most  richly 
wrought,  you  see  faces  in  relief  of  knight  and  dame, 
lords,  heraldic  animals ;  some  story,  very  likely,  told, 
almost  revelling  in  Gothic  sculpture  of  wood,  like 
what  we  have  seen  on  the  marble  sarcophagus  of 
the  old  Greeks.  It  has,  too,  a  lock,  elaborately  orna- 
mented and  inlaid  with  silver. 

What  else;  only  the  spider's  webs  spinning 
strangely  over  everything;  over  that  light  which 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.        135 

comes  into  the  room  through  the  stone ;  over  every- 
thing. And  now  we  see,  in  a  corner,  a  strange  great 
spider  curiously  variegated.  The  ugly,  terrible,  seem- 
ingly poisonous  thing  makes  us  shudder.3 

What,  else  ?  There  are  pistols ;  they  lie  on  the 
coffer  !  There  is  a  curiously  shaped  Italian  dagger, 
of  the  kind  which  in  a  groove  has  poison  that  makes 
its  wound  mortal.  On,  the  old  mantel-piece,  over  the 
fireplace,  there  is  a  vial  in  which  are  kept  certain  poi- 
sons. It  would  seem  as  if  some  one  had  meditated 
suicide ;  or  else  that  the  foul  fiend  had  put  all  sorts 
of  implements  of  self-destruction  in  his  way ;  so  that, 
in  some  frenzied  moment,  he  might  kill  himself. 

But  the  inmate !  There  he  is  ;  but  the  frenzied 
alarm  in  which  we  last  saw  him  seems  to  have 
changed  its  character.  No  throb,  now ;  no  passion ; 
no  frenzy  of  fear  or  despair.  He  sits  dull  and  mo- 
tionless. See  ;  his  cheek  is  very  pale ;  his  hair  long 
and  dishevelled.  His  beard  has  grown,  and  curls 
round  his  face.  He  has  on  a  sleeping-gown,  a  long 
robe  as  of  one  who  abides  within  doors,  and  has 
nothing  to  do  with  outward  elements ;  a  pair  of  slip- 
pers. A  dull,  dreamy  reverie  seems  to  have  possessed 
him.  Hark !  there  is  again  a  stealthy  step  on  the 
floor,  and  the  serving-man  is  here  again.  There  is 
a  peering,  anxious  curiosity  in  his  face,  as  he  struts 
towards  him,  a  sort  of  enjoyment,  one  would  say,  in 
the  way  in  which  he  looks  at  the  strange  case. 

"  I  am  here,  you  know,"  he  says,  at  length,  after 
feasting  his  eyes  for  some  time  on  the  spectacle. 


136         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  I  hear  you ! "  says  the  young  man,  in  a  dull,  in- 
different tone. 

"  Will  not  your  honor  walk  out  to-day  ? "  says 
the  man.  "It  is  long  now  since  your  honor  has 
taken  the  air." 

"Very  long,"  saj^s  the  master,  "but  I  will  not  go 
out  to-day.  What  weather  is  it  ?  " 

"  Sunny,  bright,  a  summer,  day,"  says  the  man. 
"  But  you  would  never  know  it  in  these  damp  walls. 
The  last  winter's  chill  is  here  yet.  Had  not  your 
honor  better  go  forth  ? " 

It  might  seem  that  there  was  a  sort  of  sneer,  deeply 
hidden  under  respect  and  obeisance,  in  the  man's 
words  and  craftily  respectful  tone;  deeply  hidden, 
but  conveying  a  more  subtile  power  on  that  account. 
At  all  events,  the  master  seemed  aroused  from  his 
state  of  dull  indifference,  and  writhed  as  with  poig- 
nant anguish  —  an  infused  poison  in  his  veins  —  as 
the  man  spoke. 

"  Have  you  procured  me  that  new  drug  I  spoke 
of  ?  "  asked  the  master. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  the  man,  putting  a  small  pack- 
age on  the  table. 

"  Is  it  effectual  ?  " 

"  So  said  the  apothecary,"  answered  the  man ; 
"  and  I  tried  it  on  a  dog.  He  sat  quietly  a  quarter 
of  an  hour ;  then  had  a  spasm  or  two,  and  was  dead. 
But,  your  honor,  the  dead  carcass  swelled  horribly." 

"  Hush,  villain !  Have  there  —  have  there  been 
inquiries  for  me,  —  mention  of  me  ? " 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         137 

"  O,  none,  sir,  —  none,  sir.  Affairs  go  on  bravely, 
—  the  new  live.  The  world  fills  up.  The  gap  is  not 
vacant.  There  is  no  mention  of  you.  Marry,  at  the 
alehouse  I  heard  some  idle  topers  talking  of  a  mur- 
der that  took  place  some  few  years  since,  and  saying 
that  Heaven's  vengeance  would  come  for  it  yet." 

"  Silence,  villain,  there  is  no  such  thing,"  said  the 
young  man ;  and,  with  a  laugh  that  seemed  like  scorn, 
he  relapsed  into  his  state  of  sullen  indifference ;  dur- 
ing which  the  servant  stole  away,  after  looking  at 
him  some  time,  as  if  to  take  all  possible  note  of  his 
aspect.  The  man  did  not  seem  so  much  to  enjoy  it 
himself,  as  he  did  to  do  these  things  in  a  kind  of  for- 
mal and  matter-of-course  way,  as  if  he  were  perform- 
ing a  set  duty  ;  as  if  he  were  a  subordinate  fiend,  and 
were  doing  the  duty  of  a  superior  one,  without  any 
individual  malice  of  his  own,  though  a  general  satis- 
faction in  doing  what  would  accrue  to  the  agglomera- 
tion of  deadly  mischief.  He  stole  away,  and  the 
master  was  left  to  himself. 

By  and  by,  by  what  impulse  or  cause  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  say,  he  started  upon  his  feet  in  a  sudden  frenzy 
of  rage  and  despair.  It  seemed  as  if  a  consciousness 
of  some  strange,  wild  miserable  fate  that  had  befallen 
him  had  come  upon  him  all  at  once ;  how  that  he 
was  a  prisoner  to  a  devilish  influence,  to  some  wizard 
might,  that  bound  him  hand  and  foot  with  spider's 
web.  So  he  stamped ;  so  he  half  shrieked,  yet 
stopped  himself  in  the  midst,  so  that  his  cry  was 
stifled  and  smothered.  Then  he  snatched  up  the 


138         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

poisoned  dagger  and  looked  at  it ;  the  noose,  and  put 
it  about  his  neck,  —  evil  instrument  of  death,  —  but 
laid  it  down  again.  And  then  was  a  voice  at-  the 
door  :  "  Quietly,  quietly  you  know,  or  they  will  hear 
you."  And  at  that  voice  he  sank  into  sullen  indiffer- 
ence again. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.          139 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  TRAVELLER  with  a  knapsack  on  his  shoulders 
comes  out  of  the  duskiness  of  vague,  unchronicled 
times,  throwing  his  shadow  before  him  in  the  morn- 
ing sunshine  along  a  well-trodden,  though  solitary 
path. 

It  was  early  summer,  or  perhaps  latter  spring,  and 
the  most  genial  weather  that  either  spring  or  summer 
ever  brought,  possessing  a  character,  indeed,  as  if 
both  seasons  had  done  their  utmost  to  create  an 
atmosphere  and  temperature  most  suitable  for  the 
enjoyment  and  exercise  of  life.  To  one  accustomed 
to  a  climate  where  there  is  seldom  a  medium  between 
heat  too  fierce  and  cold  too  deadly,  it  was  a  new  de- 
velopment in  the  nature  of  weather.  So  genial  it 
was,  so  full  of  all  comfortable  influences,  and  yet, 
somehow  or  other,  void  of  the  torrid  characteristic 
that  inevitably  burns  in  our  full  sun-bursts.  The 
traveller  thought,  in  fact,  that  the  sun  was  at  less 
than  his  brightest  glow ;  for  though  it  was  bright,  — 
though  the  day  seemed  cloudless,  —  though  it  ap- 
peared to  be  the  clear,  transparent  morning  that  pre- 
cedes an  unshadowed  noon,  —  still  there  was  a  mild 
and  softened  character,  not  so  perceptible  when  he 
directly  sought  to  see  it,  but  as  if  some  veil  were 


140        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

interposed  between  the  earth  and  sun,  absorbing  all 
the  passionate  qualities  out  of  the  latter,  and  leaving 
only  the  kindly  ones.  Warmth  was  in  abundance, 
and,  yet,  all  through  it,  and  strangely  akin  to  it,  there 
was  a  half-suspected  coolness  that  gave  the  atmos- 
phere its  most  thrilling  and  delicious  charm.  It  was 
good  for  human  life,  as  the  traveller  felt  throughout 
all  his  being;  good,  likewise,  for  vegetable  life,  as 
was  seen  in  the  depth  and  richness  of  verdure 'over 
the  gently  undulating  landscape,  and  the  luxuriance 
of  foliage,  wherever  there  was  tree  or  shrub  to  put 
forth  leaves. 

The  path  along  which  the  traveller  was  passing  de- 
served at  least  a  word  or  two  of  description  :  it  was  a 
well-trodden  footpath,  running  just  here  along  the 
edge  of  a  field  of  grass,  and  bordered  on  one  side  by 
a  hedge  which  contained  materials  within  itself  for 
varied  and  minute  researches  in  natural  history ;  so 
richly  luxuriant  was  it  with  its  diverse  vegetable  life, 
such  a  green  intricacy  did  it  form,  so  impenetrable 
and  so  beautiful,  and  such  a  Paradise  it  was  for  the 
birds  that  built  their  nests  there  in  a  labyrinth  of 
little  boughs  and  twigs,  unseen  and  inaccessible,  while 
close  beside  the  human  race  to  which  they  attach 
themselves,  that  they  must  have  felt  themselves  as 
safe  as  when  they  sung  to  Eve.  Homely  flowers  like- 
wise grew  in  it,  and  many  creeping  and  twining 
plants,  that  were  an  original  part  of  the  hedge,  had 
come  of  their  own  accord  and  dwelt  here,  beautifying 
and  enriching  the  verdant  fence  by  way  of  repayment 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         141 

for  the  shelter  and  support  which  it  afforded  them. 
At  intervals,  trees  of  vast  trunk  and  mighty  spread 
of  foliage,  whether  elms  or  oaks,  grew  in  the  line  of 
the  hedge,  and  the  bark  of  those  gigantic,  age-long 
patriarchs  was  not  gray  and  naked,  like  the  trees 
which  the  traveller  had  been  accustomed  to  see,  but 
verdant  with  moss,  or  in  many  cases  richly  en- 
wreathed  with  a  network  of  creeping  plants,  and 
oftenest  the  ivy  of  old  growth,  clambering  upward, 
and  making  its  own  twisted  stem  almost  of  one  sub- 
stance with  the  supporting  tree.  On  one  venerable 
oak  there  was  a  plant  of  mystic  leaf,  which  the  trav- 
eller knew  by  instinct,  and  plucked  a  bough  of  it 
with  a  certain  reverence  for  the  sake  of  the  Druids 
and  Christmas  kisses  and  of  the  pasty  in  which 
it  was  rooted  from  of  old. 

The  path  in  which  he  walked,  rustic  as  it  was  and 
made  merely  by  the  feet  that  pressed  it  down,  was 
one  of  the  ancientest  of  ways  ;  older  than  the  oak  that 
bore  the  mistletoe,  older  than  the  villages  between 
which  it  passed,  older  perhaps  than  the  common  road 
which  the  traveller  had  crossed  that  morning ;  old  as 
the  times  when  people  first  debarred  themselves  from 
wandering  freely  and  widely  wherever  a  vagrant  im- 
pulse led  them.  The  footpath,  therefore,  still  retains 
some  of  the  characteristics  of  a  woodland  walk,  taken 
at  random,  by  a  lover  of  nature  not  pressed  for  time 
nor  restrained  by  artificial  barriers;  it  sweeps  and 
lingers  along,  and  finds  pretty  little  dells  and  nooks 
of  delightful  scenery,  and  picturesque  glimpses  of 


142        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

halls  or  cottages,  in  the  same  neighborhood  where  a 
highroad  would  disclose  only  a  tiresome  blank.  They 
run  into  one  another  for  miles  and  miles  together,  and 
traverse  rigidly  guarded  parks  and  domains,  not  as  a 
matter  of  favor,  but  as  a  right ;  so  that  the  poorest 
man  thus  retains  a  kind  of  property  and  privilege  in 
the  oldest  inheritance  of  the  richest.  The  highroad 
sees  only  the  outside ;  the  footpath  leads  down  into 
the  heart  of  the  country. 

A  pleasant  feature  of  the  footpath  was  the  stile, 
between  two  fields  ;  no  frail  and  temporary  structure, 
but  betokening  the  permanence  of  this  rustic  way ; 
the  ancient  solidity  of  the  stone  steps,  worn  into  cav- 
ities by  the  hobnailed  shoes  that  had  pressed  upon 
them  :  here  not  only  the  climbing  foot  had  passed  for 
ages,  but  here  had  sat  the  maiden  with  her  milk-pail, 
the  rustic  on  his  way  afield  or  homeward ;  here  had 
been  lover  meetings,  cheerful  chance  chats,  song  as 
natural  as  bird  note,  a  thousand  pretty  scenes  of 
rustic  manners. 

It  was  curious  to  see  the  traveller  pause,  to  con- 
template so  simple  a  thing  as  this  old  stile  of  a  few 
stone  steps ;  antique  as  an  old  castle ;  simple  and 
rustic  as  the  gap  in  a  rail  fence ;  and  while  he  sat  on 
one  of  the  steps,  making  himself  pleasantly  sensible 
of  his  whereabout,  like  one  who  should  handle  a 
dream  and  find  it  tangible  and  real,  he  heard  a  sound 
that  bewitched  him  with  still  another  dreamy  delight. 
A  bird  rose  out  of  the  grassy  field,  and,  still  soaring 
aloft,  made  a  cheery  melody  that  was  like  a  spire  of 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        143 

audible  flame, — rapturous  music,  as  if  the  whole  soul 
and  substance  of  the  winged  creature  had  been  dis- 
tilled into  this  melody,  as  it  vanished  skyward. 

"The  lark!  the  lark!"  exclaimed  the  traveller, 
recognizing  the  note  (though  never  heard  before)  as 
if  his  childhood  had  known  it. 

A  moment  afterwards  another  bird  was  heard  in 
the  shadow  of  a  neighboring  wood,  or  some  other  in- 
scrutable hiding-place,  singing  softly  in  a  flute-like 
note,  as  if  blown  through  an  instrument  of  wood,  — 
"  Cuckoo  !  Cuckoo  ! "  —  only  twice,  and  then  a  still- 
ness. 

"  How  familiar  these  rustic  sounds  ! "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Surely  I  was  born  here ! " 

The  person  who  thus  enjoyed  these  sounds,  as  if 
they  were  at  once  familiar  and  strange,  was  a  young 
man,  tall  and  rather  slenderly  built,  and  though  we 
have  called  him  young,  there  were  the  traces  of 
thought,  struggle,  and  even  of  experience  in  his 
marked  brow  and  somewhat  pale  face  ;  but  the  spirit 
within  him  was  evidently  still  that  of  a  youth,  lithe 
and  active,  gazing  out  of  his  dark  eyes  and  taking 
note  of  things  about  him,  with  an  eager,  centring 
interest,  that  seemed  to  be  unusually  awake  at  the 
present  moment. 

It  could  be  but  a  few  years  since  he  first  called 
himself  a  man ;  but  they  must  have  been  thickly 
studded  with  events,  turbulent  with  action,  spent 
amidst  circumstances  that  called  for  resources  of 
energy  not  often  so  early  developed ;  and  thus  his 


144        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

youth  might  have  been  kept  in  abeyance  until 
now,  when  in  this  simple  rural  scene  he  grew  almost 
a  boy  again.  As  for  his  station  in  life,  his  coarse 
gray  suit  and  the  knapsack  on  his  shoulders  did  not 
indicate  a  very  high  one ;  yet  it  was  such  as  a  gentle- 
man might  wear  of  a  morning,  or  on  a  pedestrian 
ramble,  and  was  worn  in  a  way  that  made  it  seem  of 
a  better  fashion  than  it  really  was,  as  it  enabled  him 
to  find  a  rare  enjoyment,  as  we  have  seen,  in  by-path, 
hedge-row,  rustic  stile,  lark,  and  cuckoo,  and  even 
the  familiar  grass  arid  clover  blossom.  It  was  as  if 
he  had  long  been  shut  in  a  sick-chamber  or  a  prison ; 
or,  at  least,  within  the  iron  cage  of  busy  life,  that  had 
given  him  but  few  glimpses  of  natural  things  through 
its  bars  ;  or  else  this  was  another  kind  of  nature  than 
he  had  heretofore  known. 

As  he  walked  along  (through  a  kind  of  dream, 
though  he  seemed  so  sensibly  observant  of  trifling 
things  around  him,)  he  failed  to  notice  that  the  path 
grew  somewhat  less  distinctly  marked,  more  infringed 
upon  by  grass,  more  shut  in  by  shrubbery ;  he  had 
deviated  into  a  side  track,  and,  in  fact,  a  certain 
printed  board  nailed  against  a  tree  had  escaped  his 
notice,  warning  off  intruders  with  inhospitable  threats 
of  prosecution.  He  began  to  suspect  that  he  must 
have  gone  astray  when  the  path  led  over  plashy 
ground  with  a  st^ill  fainter  trail  of  preceding  footsteps, 
and  plunged  into  shrubbery,  and  seemed  on  the  point 
of  deserting  him  altogether,  after  having  beguiled  him 
thus  far.  The  spot  was  an  entanglement  of  boughs,  and 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.        145 

yet  did  not  give  one  the  impression  of  wildness ;  for 
it  was  the  stranger's  idea  that  everything  in  this  long 
cultivated  region  had  been  touched  and  influenced  by 
man's  care,  every  oak,  every  bush,  every  sod,  —  that 
man  knew  them  all,  and  that  they  knew  him,  and  by 
that  mutual  knowledge  had  become  far  other  than 
they  were  in  the  first  freedom  of  growth,  such  as  may 
be  found  in  an  American  forest.  Nay,  the  wildest 
denizens  of  this  sylvan  neighborhood  were  removed 
in  the  same  degree  from  their  primeval  character; 
for  hares  sat  on  their  hind  legs  to  gaze  at  the  ap- 
proaching traveller,  and  hardly  thought  it  worth  their 
while  to  leap  away  among  some  ferns,  as  he  drew 
near ;  two  pheasants  looked  at  him  from  a  bough,  a 
little  inward  among  the  shrubbery ;  and,  to  complete 
the  wonder,  he  became  aware  of  the  antlers  and 
brown  muzzle  of  a  deer  protruding  among  the  boughs, 
and  though  immediately  there  ensued  a  great  rush 
and  rustling  of  the  herd,  it  seemed  evidently  to  come 
from  a  certain  lingering  shyness,  an  instinct  that  had 
lost  its  purpose  and  object,  and  only  mimicked  a 
dread  of  man,  whose  neighborhood  and  familiarity  had 
tamed  the  wild  deer  almost  into  a  domestic  creature. 
Eeinembering  his  experience  of  true  woodland  life, 
the  traveller  fancied  that  it  might  be  possible  to  want 
freer  air,  less  often  used  for  human  breath,  than  was 
to  be  found  anywhere  among  these  woods. 

But  then  the  sweet,  calm  sense  of  safety  that  was 
here !  the  certainty  that  with  the  wild  element  that 
centuries  ago  had  passed  out  of  this  scene  had  gone 

10 


146        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

all  the  perils  of  wild  men  and  savage  beasts,  dwarfs, 
witches,  leaving  nature,  not  effete,  but  only  disarmed 
of  those  rougher,  deadlier  characteristics,  that  cruel 
rawness,  which  make  primeval  Nature  the  deadly 
enemy  even  of  her  own  children.  Here  was  conso- 
lation, doubtless ;  so  we  sit  down  on  the  stone  step 
of  the  last  stile  that  he  had  crossed,  and  listen  to  the 
footsteps  of  the  traveller,  and  the  distant  rustle 
among  the  shrubbery,  as  he  goes  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  seclusion,  having  by  this  time  lost  the  deceit- 
ful track.  No  matter  if  he  go  astray ;  even  were  it 
after  nightfall  instead  of  noontime,  a  will-o'-the-wisp, 
or  Puck  himself,  would  not  lead  him  into  worse  harm 
than  to  delude  him  into  some  mossy  pool,  the  depths 
of  which  the  truant  schoolboys  had  known  for  ages. 
Nevertheless,  some  little  time  after  his  disappearance, 
there  was  the  report  of  a  shot  that  echoed  sharp  and 
loud,  startling  the  pheasants  from  their  boughs,  and 
sending  the  hares  and  deer  a-scampering  in  good 
earnest. 

We  next  find  our  friend,  from  whom  we  parted  on 
the  footpath,  in  a  situation  of  which  he  then  was  but 
very  imperfectly  aware ;  for,  indeed,  he  had  been  in 
a  state  of  unconsciousness,  lasting  until  it  was  now 
late  towards  the  sunset  of  that  same  day.  He  was 
endeavoring  to  make  out  where  he  was,  and  how  he 
came  thither,  or  what  had  happened ;  or  whether, 
indeed,  anything  had  happened,  unless  to  have  fallen 
asleep,  and  to  be  still  enveloped  in  the  fragments  of 
some  vivid  and  almost  tangible  dream,  the  more  con- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         147 

fused  because  so  vivid.  His  wits  did  not  come  so 
readily  about  him  as  usual ;  there  may  have  been  a 
slight  delusion,  which  mingled  itself  with  his  sober 
perceptions,  and  by  its  leaven  of  extravagance  made 
the  whole  substance  of  the  scene  untrue.  Thus  it 
happened  that,  as  it  were  at  the  same  instant,  he 
fancied  himself  years  back  in  life,  thousands  of  mifes 
away,  in  a  gloomy  cobwebbed  room,  looking  out 
upon  a  graveyard,  while  yet,  neither  more  nor  less 
distinctly,  he  was  conscious  of  being  in  a  small  cham- 
ber, panelled  with  oak,  and  furnished  in  an  antique 
style.  He  was  doubtful,  too,  whether  or  no  there 
was  a  grim  feudal  figure,  in  a  shabby  dressing-gown 
and  an  old  velvet  cap,  sitting  in  the  dusk  of  the 
room,  smoking  a  pipe  that  diffused  a  scent  of  tobacco, 
—  quaffing  a  deep-hued  liquor  out  of  a  tumbler,  — 
looking  upwards  at  a  spider  that  hung  above.  Was 
there,  too,  a  child  sitting  in  a  little  chair  at  his  foot- 
stool ?  In  his  earnestness  to  see  this  apparition  more 
distinctly,  he  opened  his  eyes  wider  and  stirred,  and 
ceased  to  see  it  at  all. 

But  though  that  other  dusty,  squalid,  cobwebbed 
scene  quite  vanished,  and  along  with  it  the  two 
figures,  old  and  young,  grim  and  childish,  of  whose 
portraits  it  had  been  the  framework,  still  there  were 
features  in  the  old,  oaken-panelled  chamber  that 
seemed  to  belong  rather  to  his  dream.  The  panels 
were  ornamented,  here  and  there,  with  antique  carv- 
ing, representing  over  and  over  again  an  identical 
device,  being  a  bare  arm,  holding  the  torn-off  head  of 


148        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

some  savage  beast,  which  the  stranger  could  not 
know  by  species,  any  more  than  Agassiz  himself 
could  have  assigned  its  type  or  kindred ;  because  it 
was  that  kind  of  natural  history  of  which  heraldry 
alone  keeps  the  menagerie.  But  it  was  just  as  famil- 
iar to  his  recollection  as  that  of  the  cat  which  he  had 
fondled  in  his  childhood. 

There  was  likewise  a  mantelpiece,  heavily  wrought 
of  oak,  quite  black  with  smoke  and  age,  in  the  centre 
of  which,  more  prominent  than  elsewhere,  was  that 
same  leopard's  head  that  seemed  to  thrust  itself  every- 
where into  sight,  as  if  typifying  some  great  mystery 
which  human  nature  would  never  be  at  rest  till  it 
had  solved ;  and  below,  in  a  cavernous  hollow,  there 
was  a  smouldering  fire  of  coals ;  for  the  genial  day 
had  suddenly  grown  chill,  and  a  shower  of  rain  spat- 
tered against  the  small  window-panes,  almost  at  the 
same  time  with  the  struggling  sunshine.  And  over 
the  mantelpiece,  where  the  light  of  the  declining 
day  came  strongest  from  the  window,  there  was  a 
larger  and  more  highly  relieved  carving  of  this  same 
device,  and  underneath  it  a  legend,  in  Old  English 
letters,  which,  though  his  eyes  could  not  precisely 
trace  it  at  that  distance,  he  knew  to  be  this :  — 

"P^olU  Jarti  tfje  Pfeati." 

Otherwise  the  aspect  of  the  room  bewildered  him  by 
not  being  known,  since  these  details  were  so  familiar ; 
a  narrow  precinct  it  was,  with  one  window  full  of  old- 
fashioned,  diamond-shaped  panes  of  glass,  a  small 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         149 

desk  table,  standing  on  clawed  feet ;  two  or  three 
high-backed  chairs,  on  the  top  of  each  of  which  was 
carved  that  same  crest  of  the  fabulous  brute's  head, 
which  the  carver's  fancy  seemed  to  have  clutched  so 
strongly  that  he  could  not  let  it  go  ;  in  another  part 
of  the  room  a  very  old  engraving,  rude  and  strong, 
representing  some  ruffled  personage,  which  the  stran- 
ger only  tried  to  make  out  with  a  sort  of  idle  curi- 
osity, because  it  was  strange  he  should  dream  so 
distinctly. 

Very  soon  it  became  intolerably  irritating  that 
these  two  dreams,  both  purposeless,  should  have 
mingled  and  entangled  themselves  in  his  mind.  He 
made  a  nervous  and  petulant  motion,  intending  to 
rouse  himself  fully ;  and  immediately  a  sharp  pang  of 
physical  pain  took  him  by  surprise,  and  made  him 
groan  aloud. 

Immediately  there  was  an  almost  noiseless  step  on 
the  floor ;  and  a  figure  emerged  from  a  deep  niche, 
that  looked  as  if  it  might  once  have  been  an  oratory, 
in  ancient  times;  and  the  figure,  too,  might  have  been 
supposed  to  possess  the  devout  and  sanctified  charac- 
ter of  such  as  knelt  in  the  oratories  of  ancient  times. 
It  was  an  elderly  man,  tall,  thin,  and  pale,  and  wear- 
ing a  long,  dark  tunic,  and  in  a  peculiar  fashion, 
which  —  like  almost  everything  else  about  him  — 
the  stranger  seemed  to  have  a  confused  remembrance 
of;  this  venerable  person  had  a  benign  and  pitiful 
aspect,  and  approached  the  bedside  with  such  good 
will  and  evident  desire  to  do  the  sufferer  good,  that 


150        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

the  latter  felt  soothed,  at  least,  by  his  very  presence. 
He  lay,  a  moment,  gazing  up  at  the  old  man's  face, 
without  being  able  to  exert  himself  to  say  a  word, 
but  sensible,  as  it  were,  of  a  mild,  soft  influence  from 
him,  cooling  the  fever  which  seemed  to  burn  in  his 
veins. 

"  Do  you  suffer  much  pain  ? "  asked  the  old  man, 
gently. 

"  None  at  all,"  said  the  stranger  ;  but  again  a  slight 
motion  caused  him  to  feel  a  burning  twinge  in  his 
shoulder.  "  Yes ;  there  was  a  throb  of  strange  an- 
guish. Why  should  I  feel  pain  ?  Where  am  I  ?  " 

"  In  safety,  and  with  those  who  desire  to  be  your 
friends,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  have  met  with  an 
accident ;  but  do  not  inquire  about  it  now.  Quiet  is 
what  you  need." 

Still  the  traveller  gazed  at  him  ;  and  the  old  man's 
figure  seemed  to  enter  into  his  dream,  or  delirium, 
whichever  it  might  be,  as  if  his  peaceful  presence 
were  but  a  shadow,  so  quaint  was  his  address,  so  un- 
like real  life,  in  that  dark  robe,  with  a  velvet  skull- 
cap on  his  head,  beneath  which  his  hair  made  a  sil- 
very border ;  and  looking  more  closely,  the  stranger 
saw  embroidered  on  the  breast  of  the  tunic  that  same 
device,  the  arm  and  the  leopard's  head,  which  was 
visible  in  the  carving  of  the  room.  Yes ;  this  must 
still  be  a  dream,  which,  under  the  unknown  laws 
which  govern  such  psychical  states,  had  brought  out 
thus  vividly  figures,  devices,  words,  forgotten  since 
his  boyish  days.  Though  of  an  imaginative  tendency, 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         151 

the  stranger  was  nevertheless  strongly  tenacious  of 
*he  actual,  and  had  a  natural  horror  at  the  idea  of 
being  seriously  at  odds,  in  beliefs,  perceptions,  con- 
clusions, with  the. real  world  about  him;  so  that  a 
tremor  ran  through  him,  as  if  he  felt  the  substance  of 
the  world  shimmering  before  his  eyes  like  a  mere 
vaporous  consistency. 

"  Are  you  real  ?  "  said  he  to  the  antique  presence  ; 
"  or  a  spirit  ?  or  a  fantasy  ?  " 

The  old  man  laid  his  thin,  cool  palm  on  the  stran- 
ger's burning  forehead,  and  smiled  benignantly,  keep- 
ing it  there  an  instant. 

" If  flesh  and  blood  are  real,  I  am  so,"  said  he  ;  "a 
spirit,  too,  I  may  claim  to  be,  made  thin  by  fantasy. 
Again,  do  not  perplex  yourself  with  such  things. 
To-morrow  you  may  find  denser  substance  in  me. 
Drink  this  composing  draught,  and  close  your  eyes  to 
those  things  that  disturb  you." 

"Your  features,  too,  and  your  voice,"  said  the 
stranger,  in  a  resigned  tone,  as  if  he  were  giving  up  a 
riddle,  the  solution  of  which  he  could  not  find,  "  have 
an  image  and  echo  somewhere  in  my  memory.  It 
is  all  an  entanglement.  I  will  drink,  and  shut  my 
eyes." 

He  drank  from  a  little  old-fashioned  silver  cup, 
which  his  venerable  guardian  presented  to  his  lips ; 
but  in  so  doing  he  was  still  perplexed  and  tremu- 
lously disturbed  with  seeing  that  same  weary  old 
device,  the  leopard's  head,  engraved  on  the  side ;  and 
shut  his  eyes  to  escape  it,  for  it  irritated  a  certain 


152        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

portion  of  his  brain  with  vague,  fanciful,  elusive  ideas. 
So  he  sighed  and  spoke  no  more.  The  medicine, 
whatever  it  might  be,  had  the  merit,  rare  in  doctor's 
stuff,  of  being  pleasant  to  take,  assuasive  of  thirst, 
and  imbued  with  a  hardly  perceptible  fragrance,  that 
was  so  ethereal  that  it  also  seemed  to  enter  into  his 
dream  and  modify  it.  He  kept  his  eyes  closed,  and 
fell  into  a  misty  state,  in  which  he  wondered  whether 
this  could  be  the  panacea  or  medicament  which  old 
Doctor  Grimshawe  used  to  distil  from  cobwebs,  and 
of  which  the  fragrance  seemed  to  breathe  through  all 
the  waste  of  years  since  then.  He  wondered,  too, 
who  was  this  benign,  saint-like  old  man,  and  where, 
in  what  former  state  of  being,  he  could  have  known 
him;  to  have  him  thus,  as  no  strange  thing,  and  yet 
so  strange,  be  attending  at  his  bedside,  with  all  this 
ancient  garniture.  But  it  was  best  to  dismiss  all 
things,  he  being  so  weak;  to  resign  himself;  all  this 
had  happened  before,  and  had  passed  away,  prosper- 
ously or  unprosperously  ;  it  would  pass  away  in  this 
case,  likewise ;  and  in  the  morning  whatever  might 
be  delusive  would  have  disappeared. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         153 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  patient1  had  a  favorable  night,  and  awoke 
with  a  much  clearer  head,  though  still  considerably 
feverish  and  in  a  state  of  great  exhaustion  from  loss  of 
blood,  which  kept  down  the  fever.  The  events  of  the 
preceding  day  shimmered  as  it  were  and  shifted  illu- 
sively in  his  recollection ;  nor  could  he  yet  account  for 
the  situation  in  which  he  found  himself,  the  antique 
chamber,  the  old  man  of  mediaeval  garb,  nor  even  for 
the  wound  which  seemed  to  have  been  the  occasion 
of  bringing  him  thither.  One  moment,  so  far  as  he 
remembered,  he  had  been  straying  along  a  solitary 
footpath,  through  rich  shrubbery,  with  the  antlered 
deer  peeping  at  him,  listening  to  the  lark  and  the 
cuckoo ;  the  next,  he  lay  helpless  in  this  oak-pan- 
elled chamber,  surrounded  with  objects  that  appealed 
to  some  fantastic  shadow  of  recollection,  which  could 
have  had  no  reality.2 

To  say  the  truth,  the  traveller  perhaps  wilfully 
kept  hold  of  this  strange  illusiveness,  and  kept  his 
thoughts  from  too  harshly  analyzing  his  situation, 
and  solving  the  riddle  in  which  he  found  himself  in- 
volved. In  his  present  weakness,  his  mind  sympa- 
thizing with  the  sinking  down  of  his  physical  powers, 
it  was  delightful  to  let  all  go ;  to  relinquish  all  con- 


154        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

trol,  and  let  himself  drift  vaguely  into  whatever  re- 
gion of  improbabilities  there  exists  apart  from  the 
dull,  common  plane  of  life.  Weak,  stricken  down, 
given  over  to  influences  which  had  taken  possession 
of  him  during  an  interval  of  insensibility,  he  was  no 
longer  responsible ;  let  these  delusions,  if  they  were 
such,  linger  as  long  as  they  would,  and  depart  of  their 
own  accord  at  last.  He,  meanwhile,  would  willingly 
accept  the  idea  that  some  spell  had  transported  him 
out  of  an  epoch  in  which  he  had  led  a  brief,  troubled 
existence  of  battle,  mental  strife,  success,  failure,  all 
equally  feverish  and  unsatisfactory,  into  some  past 
century,  where  the  business  was  to  rest,  —  to  drag  on 
dreamy  days,  looking  at  things  through  half-shut 
eyes ;  into  a  limbo  where  things  were  put  away, 
shows  of  what  had  once  been,  now  somehow  fainted, 
and  still  maintaining  a  sort  of  half-existence,  a  seri- 
ous mockery ;  a  state  likely  enough  to  exist  just  a 
little  apart  from  the  actual  world,  if  we  only  know 
how  to  find  our  way  into  it.  Scenes  and  events  that 
had  once  stained  themselves,  in  deep  colors,  on  the 
curtain  that  Time  hangs  around  us,  to  shut  us  in 
from  eternity,  cannot  be  quite  effaced  by  the  succeed- 
ing phantasmagoria,  and  sometimes,  by  a  palimpsest, 
show  more  strongly  than  they.3 

In  the  course  of  the  morning,  however,  he  was  a 
little  too  feelingly  made  sensible  of  realities  by  the 
visit  of  a  surgeon,  who  proceeded  to  examine  the 
wound  in  his  shoulder,  removing  the  bandages  which 
he  himself  seemed  to  have  put  upon  this  mysterious 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        155 

hurt.  The  traveller  closed  his  eyes,  and  submitted 
to  the  manipulations  of  the  professional  person,  pain- 
ful as  they  were,  assisted  by  the  gentle  touch  of  the 
old  palmer ;  and  there  was  something  in  the  way  in 
which  he  resigned  himself  that  met  the  approbation 
of  the  surgeon,  in  spite  of  a  little  fever,  and  slight 
delirium  too,  to  judge  by  his  eye. 

"  A  very  quiet  and  well-behaved  patient,"  said  he 
to  the  palmer.  "  Unless  I  greatly  mistake,  he  has 
been  under  the  surgeon's  hand  for  a  similar  hurt  ere 
now.  He  has  learned  under  good  discipline  how  to 
take  such  a  thing  easily.  Yes,  yes ;  just  here  is  a 
mark  where  a  bullet  went  in  some  time  ago,  —  three 
or  four  years  since,  when  he  could  have  been  little 
more  than  a  boy.  A  wild  fellow  this,  I  doubt." 

"  It  was  an  Indian  bullet/'  said  the  patient,  still 
fancying  himself  gone  astray  into  the  past,  "  shot  at 
me  in  battle ;  't  was  three  hundred  years  hereafter." 

"  Ah !  he  has  served  in  the  East  Indies,"  said  the 
surgeon.  "  I  thought  this  sun-burned  cheek  had 
taken  its  hue  elsewhere  than  in  England." 

The  patient  did  not  care  to  take  the  trouble  which 
would  have  been  involved  in  correcting  the  surgeon's 
surmise ;  so  he  let  it  pass,  and  patiently  awaited  the 
end  of  the  examination,  with  only  a  moan  or  two, 
which  seemed  rather  pleasing  and  desirable  than  oth- 
erwise to  the  surgeon's  ear. 

"  He  has  vitality  enough  for  his  needs,"  said  he, 
nodding  to  the  palmer.  "  These  groans  betoken  a 
good  degree  of  pain ;  though  the  young  fellow  is  evi- 


156        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

dently  a  self-contained  sort  of  nature,  and  does  not 
let  us  know  all  he  feels.  It  promises  well,  however ; 
keep  him  in  bed  and  quiet,  and  within  a  day  or  two 
we  shall  see." 

He  wrote  a  recipe,  or  two  or  three,  perhaps,  (for  in 
those  days  the  medical  fraternity  had  faith  in  their 
own  art,)  and  took  his  leave. 

The  white-bearded  palmer  withdrew  into  the  half 
concealment  of  the  oratory  which  we  have  already 
mentioned,  and  then,  putting  on  a  pair  of  spectacles, 
betook  himself  to  the  perusal  of  an  old  folio  volume, 
the  leaves  of  which  he  turned  over  so  gently  that  not 
the  slightest  sound  could  possibly  ^disturb  the  patient. 
All  his  manifestations  were  gentle  and  soft,  but  of  a 
simplicity  most  unlike  the  feline  softness  which  we  are 
apt  to  associate  with  a  noiseless  tread  and  movement 
in  the  male  sex.  The  sunshine  came  through  the 
ivy  and  glimmered  upon  his  great  book,  however, 
with  an  effect  which  a  little  disturbed  the  patient's 
nerves ;  besides,  he  desired  to  have  a  fuller  view  of 
his  benign  guardian. 

"  Will  you  sit  nearer  the  bedside  ?  "  said  he.  "  I 
wish  to  look  at  you." 

Weakness,  the  relaxation  of  nerves,  and  the  state 
of  dependence  on  another's  care — very  long  unfelt — 
had  made  him  betray  what  we  must  call  childishness ; 
and  it  was  perceptible  in  the  low  half-complaining 
tone  in  which  he  spoke,  indicating  a  consciousness 
of  kindness  in  the  other,  a  little  plaintiveness  in 
himself;  of  which,  the  next  instant,  weak  and  wan- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        157 

dering  as  he  was,  he  was  ashamed,  and  essayed  to 
express  it.4 

"  You  must  deem  me  very  poor-spirited/'  said  he, 
"not  to  bear  this  trifling  hurt  with  a  firmer  mind. 
But  perhaps  it  is  not  entirely  that  I  am  so  weak,  but 
I  feel  you  to  be  so  benign." 

"  Be  weak,  and  be  the  stronger  for  it,"  said  the  old 
man,  with  a  grave  smile.  "  It  is  not  in  the  pride  of 
our  strength  that  we  are  best  or  wisest.  To  be  made 
anew,  we  even  must  be  again  a  little  child,  and  con- 
sent to  be  enwrapt  quietly  in  the  arms  of  Providence, 
as  a  child  in  its  mother's  arms." 

"  I  never  knew  a  mother's  care,"  replied  the  travel- 
ler, in  a  low,  regretful  tone,  being  weak  to  the  incom- 
ing of  all  soft  feelings,  in  his  present  state.  "  Since 
my  boyhood,  I  have  lived  among  men,  —  a  life  of 
struggle  and  hard  rivalry.  It  is  good  to  find  myself 
here  in  the  long  past,  and  in  a  sheltered  harbor." 

And  here  he  smiled,  by  way  of  showing  to  this  old 
palmer  that  he  saw  through  the  slight  infirmity  of 
mind  that  impelled  him  to  say  such  things  as  the 
above ;  that  he  was  not  its  dupe,  though  he  had  not 
strength,  just  now,  to  resist  its  impulse.  After  this 
he  dozed  off  softly,  and  felt  through  all  his  sleep 
some  twinges  of  his  wound,  bringing  him  back,  as  it 
were,  to  the  conscious  surface  of  the  great  deep  of 
slumber,  into  which  he  might  otherwise  have  sunk. 
At  all  such  brief  intervals,  half  unclosing  his  eyes, 
(like  a  child,  when  the  mother  sits  by  its  bed  and  he 
fears  that  she  will  steal  away  if  he  falls  quite  asleep, 


158        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

and  leave  him  in  the  dark  solitude,)  he  still  beheld 
the  white-bearded,  kindly  old  man,  of  saintly  aspect, 
sitting  near  him,  and  turning  over  the  pages  of  his 
folio  volume  so  softly  that  not  the  faintest  rustle  did 
it  make ;  the  picture  at  length  got  so  fully  into  his 
idea,  that  he  seemed  to  see  it  even  through  his  closed 
eyelids.  After  a  while,  however,  the  slumberous  ten- 
dency left  him  more  entirely,  and,  without  having 
been  consciously  awake,  he  found  himself  contem- 
plating the  old  man,  with  wide-open  eyes.  The  ven- 
erable personage  seemed  soon  to  feel  his  gaze,  and, 
ceasing  to  look  at  the  folio,  he  turned  his  eyes  with 
quiet  inquiry  to  meet  those  of  the  stranger.5 

"  What  great  volume  is  that  ? "  asked  the  latter.6 

"  It  is  a  book  of  English  chronicles,"  said  the  old 
man,  "mostly  relating  to  the  part  of  the  island  where 
you  now  are,  and  to  times  previous  to  the  Stuarts." 

"  Ah !  it  is  to  you,  a  contemporary,  what  reading 
the  newspaper  is  to  other  men,"  said  the  stranger; 
then,  with  a  smile  of  self-reproach,  "  I  shall  conquer 
this  idle  mood.  I'm  not  so  imbecile  as  you  must 
think  me.  But  there  is  something  that  strangely 
haunts  me, — where,  in  what  state  of  being,  can  I  have 
seen  your  face  before.  There  is  nothing  in  it  I  dis- 
tinctly remember;  but  some  impression,  some  char- 
acteristic, some  look,  with  which  I  have  been  long 
ago  familiar  haunts  me  and  brings  back  all  old  scenes. 
Do  you  know  me?" 

The  old  man  smiled.  "  I  knew,  long  ago,  a  bright 
and  impressible  boy,"  said  he. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHA  WES  SECRET.        159 

"  And  his  name  ? "  said  the  stranger. 

"  It  was  Edward  Kedclyffe,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Ah,  I  see  who  you  are,"  said  the  traveller,  not  too 
earnestly,  but  with  a  soft,  gratified  feeling,  as  the  riddle 
thus  far  solved  itself.  "  You  are  my  old  kindly  in- 
structor. You  are  Colcord !  That  is  it.  I  remember 
you  disappeared.  You  shall  tell  me,  when  I  am  quite 
myself,  what  was  that  mystery,  —  and  whether  it  is 
your  real  self,  or  only  a  part  of  my  dream,  and  going 
to  vanish  when  I  quite  awake.  Now  I  shall  sleep 
and  dream  more  of  it." 

One  more  waking  interval  he  had  that  day,  and 
again  essayed  to  enter  into  conversation  with  the  old 
man,  who  had  thus  strangely  again  become  connected 
with  his  life,  after  having  so  long  vanished  from  his 
path. 

"  Where  am  I  ? "  asked  Edward  Eedclyffe. 

"  In  the  home  of  misfortune,"  said  Colcord. 

"  Ah !  then  I  have  a  right  to  be  here  ! "  said  he. 
"I  was  born  in  such  a  home.  Do  you  remember  it?" 

"  I  know  your  story,"  said  Colcord. 

"  Yes  ;  from  Doctor  Grim,"  said  Edward.  "  People 
whispered  he  had  made  away  with  you.  I  never  be- 
lieved it ;  but  finding  you  here  in  this  strange  way, 
and  myself  having  been  shot,  perhaps  to  death,  it 
seems  not  so  strange.  Pooh  !  I  wander  again,  and 
ought  to  sleep  a  little  more.  And  this  is  the  home 
of  misfortune,  but  not  like  the  squalid  place  of  rage, 
idiocy,  imbecility,  drunkenness,  where  I  was  born. 
How  many  times  I  have  blushed  to  remember  that 


160         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

native  home !  But  not  of  late !  I  have  struggled ; 
I  have  fought;  I  have  triumphed.  The  unknown 
boy  has  come  to  be  no  undistinguished  man !  His 
ancestry,  should  he  ever  reveal  himself  to  them,  need 
not  blush  for  the  poor  foundling." 

"  Hush  ! "  said  the  quiet  watcher.  "  Your  fever 
burns  you.  Take  this  draught,  and  sleep  a  little 
longer."  7 

Another  day  or  two  found  Edward  Eedclyffe  almost 
a  convalescent.  The  singular  lack  of  impatience 
that  characterized  his  present  mood  —  the  repose  of 
spirit  into  which  he  had  lapsed  —  had  much  to  do 
with  the  favorable  progress  of  his  cure.  After  strife, 
anxiety,  great  mental  exertion,  and  excitement  of 
various  kinds,  which  had  harassed  him  ever  since  he 
grew  to  be  a  man,  had  come  this  opportunity  of  per- 
fect rest ;  —  this  dream  in  the  midst  of  which  he  lay, 
while  its  magic  boundaries  involved  him,  and  kept 
far  off  the  contact  of  actual  life,  so  that  its  sounds 
and  tumults  seemed  remote ;  its  cares  could  not  fret 
him;  its  ambitions,  objects  good  or  evil,  were  shut 
out  from  him  ;  the  electric  wires  that  had  connected 
him  with  the  battery  of  life  were  broken  for  the 
time,  and  he  did  not  feel  the  unquiet  influence  that 
kept  everybody  else  in  galvanic  motion.  So,  under 
the  benign  influence  of  the  old  palmer,  he  lay  in 
slumberous  luxury,  undisturbed  save  by  some  twinges 
of  no  intolerable  pain ;  which,  however,  he  almost 
was  glad  of,  because  it  made  him  sensible  that  this 
deep  luxury  of  quiet  was  essential  to  his  cure,  how- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         161 

ever  idle  it  might  seem.  For  the  first  time  since  he 
was  a  child,  he  resigned  himself  not  to  put  a  finger  to 
the  evolution  of  his  fortune  ;  he  determined  to  accept 
all  things  that  might  happen,  good  or  evil ;  he  would 
not  imagine  an  event  beyond  to-day,  but  would  let 
one  spontaneous  and  half-defined  thought  loiter  after 
another,  through  his  mind ;  listen  to  the  spattering 
shower,  —  the  puffs  of  shut-out  wind  ;  and  look  with 
half-shut  eyes  at  the  sunshine  glimmering  through 
the  ivy-twigs,  and  illuminating  those  old  devices  on 
the  wall ;  at  the  gathering  twilight ;  at  the  dim  lamp  ; 
at  the  creeping  upward  of  another  day,  and  with  it 
the  lark  singing  so  far  away  that  the  thrill  of  its  de- 
licious song  could  not  disturb  him  with  an  impulse 
to  awake.  Sweet  as  its  carol  was,  he  could  almost 
have  been  content  to  miss  the  lark ;  sweet  and  clear, 
it  was  too  like  a  fairy  trumpet-call,  summoning  him 
to  awake  and  struggle  again  with  eager  combatants 
for  new  victories,  the  best  of  which  were  not  worth 
this  deep  repose. 

The  old  palmer  did  his  best  to  prolong  a  mood  so 
beneficial  to  the  wounded  young  man.  The  surgeon 
also  nodded  approval,  and  attributed  this  happy  state 
of  the  patient's  mind,  and  all  the  physical  advantages 
growing  out  of  it,  to  his  own  consummate  skill ;  nor, 
indeed,  was  he  undeserving  of  credit,  not  often  to  be 
awarded  to  medical  men,  for  having  done  nothing  to 
impede  the  good  which  kind  Nature  was  willing  to 
bring  about.  She  was  doing  the  patient  more  good, 
indeed,  than  either  the  surgeon  or  the  palmer  could 
11 


162         DOCTOR    GRIMSHA  W&S  SECRET. 

fully  estimate,  in  taking  this  opportunity  to  recreate 
a  mind  that  had  too  early  known  stirring  impulse, 
and  that  had  been  worked  to  a  degree  beyond  what 
its  organization  (in  some  respects  singularly  delicate) 
ought  to  have  borne.  Once  in  a  long  while  the  weary 
actors  in  the  headlong  drama  of  life  must  have  such 
repose  or  else  go  mad  or  die.  When  the  machinery 
of  human  life  has  once  been  stopped  by  sickness  or 
other  impediment,  it  often  needs  an  impulse  to  set  it 
going  again,  even  after  it  is  nearly  wound  up. 

But  it  could  not  last  forever.  The  influx  of  new 
life  into  his  being  began  to  have  a  poignancy  that 
would  not  let  him  lie  so  quietly,  lapped  in  the  past, 
in  gone  -by  centuries,  and  waited  on  by  quiet  Age,  in 
the  person  of  the  old  palmer  ;  he  began  to  feel  again 
that  he  was  young,  and  must  live  in  the  time  when 
his  lot  was  cast.  He  began  to  say  to  himself,  that  it 
was  not  well  to  be  any  longer  passive,  but  that  he 
must  again  take  the  troublesome  burden  of  his  own 
life  on  his  own  shoulders.  He  thought  of  this  neces- 
sity, this  duty,  throughout  one  whole  day,  and  deter- 
mined that  on  the  morrow  he  would  make  the  first 
step  towards  terminating  his  inaction,  which  he  now 
began  to  be  half  impatient  of,  at  the  same  time  that 
he  clutched  it  still,  for  the  sake  of  the  deliciousness 
that  it  had  had. 

"  To-morrow,  I  hope  to  be  clothed  and  in  my  right 
mind,"  said  he  to  the  old  palmer,  "  and  very  soon  I 
must  thank  you,  with  my  whole  heart,  for  your  kind 
care,  and  go.  It  is  a  shame  that  I  burden  the  hospi- 
tality of  this  house  so  long." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        163 

"  No  shame  whatever,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  but, 
on  the  contrary,  the  fittest  thing  that .  could  have 
chanced.  You  are  dependent  on  no  private  benevo- 
lence, nor  on  the  good  offices  of  any  man  now  living, 
or  who  has  lived  these  last  three  hundred  years. 
This  ancient  establishment  is  for  the  support  of  pov- 
erty, misfortune,  and  age,  and,  according  to  the  word 
of  the  founder,  it  serves  him :  —  he  was  indebted  to 
the  beneficiaries,  not  they  to  him,  for,  in  return  for 
his  temporal  bequests,  he  asked  their  prayers  for  his 
soul's  welfare.  He  needed  them,  could  they  avail 
him;  for  this  ponderous  structure  was  built  upon  the 
founder's  mortal  transgressions,  and  even,  I  may  say, 
out  of  the  actual  substance  of  them.  Sir  Edward 
Eedclyffe  was  a  fierce  fighter  in  the  Wars  of  the  Eoses, 
and  amassed  much  wealth  by  spoil,  rapine,  confisca- 
tion, and  all  violent  and  evil  ways  that  those  dis- 
turbed times  opened  to  him ;  and  on  his  death-bed 
he  founded  this  Hospital  for  twelve  men,  who  should 
be  able  to  prove  kindred  with  his  race,  to  dwell  here 
with  a  stipend,  and  pray  for  him ;  and  likewise  pro- 
vision for  a  sick  stranger,  until  he  should  be  able  to 
go  on  his  way  again." 

"  I  shall  pray  for  him  willingly,"  said  Edward,  moved 
by  the  pity  which  awaits  any  softened  state  of  our 
natures  to  steal  into  our  hearts.  "  Though  no  Catho- 
lic, I  will  pray  for  his  soul.  And  that  is  his  crest 
which  you  wear  embroidered  on  his  garment  ? " 

"  It  is,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  will  see  it  carved, 
painted,  embroidered,  everywhere  about  the  establish- 


164        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

ment ;  but  let  us  give  it  the  better  and  more  reason- 
able interpretation ;  —  not  that  he  sought  to  proclaim 
his  own  pride  of  ancestry  and  race,  but  to  acknowledge 
his  sins  the  more  manifestly,  by  stamping  the  emblem 
of  his  race  on  this  structure  of  his  penitence." 

"  And  are  you,"  said  Redclyffe,  impressed  anew  by 
the  quiet  dignity  of  the  venerable  speaker,  "  in  au- 
thority in  the  establishment  ? " 

"A  simple  beneficiary  of  the  charity,"  said  the 
palmer ;  "  one  of  the  twelve  poor  brethren  and  kins- 
men of  the  founder.  Slighter  proofs  of  kindred  are 
now  of  necessity  received,  since,  in  the  natural  course 
of  things,  the  race  has  long  been  growing  scarce. 
But  I  had  it  in  my  power  to  make  out  a  sufficient 
claim." 

"  Singular,"  exclaimed  Redclyffe,  "  you  being  an 
American ! "  8 

"You  remember  me,  then,"  said  the  old  man, 
quietly. 

"From  the  first,"  said  Edward,  "although  your  im-, 
age  took  the  fantastic  aspect  of  the  bewilderment  in 
which  I  then  was ;  and  now  that  I  am  in  clearer 
state  of  mind,  it  seems  yet  stranger  that  you  should 
be  here.  We  two  children  thought  you  translated, 
and  people,  I  remember,  whispered  dark  hints  about 
your  fate." 

"There  was  nothing  wonderful  in  my  disappear- 
ance," said  the  old  man.  "There  were  causes,  an 
impulse,  an  intuition,  that  made  me  feel,  one  par- 
ticular night,  that  I  might  meet  harm,  whether  from 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         165 

myself  or  others,  by  remaining  in  a  place  with  which 
I  had  the  most  casual  connection.  But  I  never,  so 
long  as  I  remained  in  America,  quite  lost  sight  of 
you ;  and  Doctor  Grimshawe,  before  his  death,  had 
knowledge  of  where  I  was,  and  gave  me  in  charge  a 
duty  which  I  faithfully  endeavored  to  perform.  Sin- 
gular man  that  he  was !  much  evil,  much  good  in 
him.  Both,  it  may  be,  will  live  after  him  ! " 

Kedclyffe,  when  the  conversation  had  reached  this 
point,  felt  a  vast  desire  to  reveal  to  the  old  man  all 
that  the  grim  Doctor  had  instilled  into  his  childish 
mind,  all  that  he  himself,  in  subsequent  years,  had 
wrought  more  definitely  out  of  it,  all"  his  accompa- 
nying doubts  respecting  the  secret  of  his  birth  and 
some  supposed  claims  which  he  might  assert,  and 
which,  only  half  acknowledging  the  purpose,  had 
availed  to  bring  him,  a  republican,  hither  as  to  ail 
ancestral  centre.  He  even  fancied  that  the  benign 
old  man  seemed  to  expect  and  await  such  a  confi- 
dence; but  that  very  idea  contributed  to  make  it 
impossible  for  him  to  speak. 

"Another  time,"  he  said  to  himself.  "Perhaps 
never.  It  is  a  fantastic  folly;  and  with  what  the 
workhouse  foundling  has  since  achieved,  he  would 
give  up  too  many  hopes  to  take  the  representation  of 
a  mouldy  old  English  family." 

"I  find  my  head  still  very  weak,"  said  he,  by  way 
of  cutting  short  the  conversation.  "I  must  try  to 
sleep  again." 


166     "  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TEE  next  day  he  called  for  his  clothes,  and,  with 
the  assistance  of  the  pensioner,  managed  to  be  dressed, 
and  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  surgeon,  sitting  in  a 
great  easy-chair,  with  not  much  except  his  pale,  thin 
cheeks,  dark,  thoughtful  eyes,  and  his  arm  in  a  sling, 
to  show  the  pain  and  danger  through  which  he  had 
passed.  Soon  after  the  departure  of  the  professional 
gentleman,  a  step  somewhat  louder  than  ordinary  was 
heard  on  the  staircase,  and  in  the  corridor  leading  to 
the  sick-chamber ;  the  step  (as  Redclyffe's  perceptions, 
nicely  attempered  by  his  weakness,  assured  him)  of  a 
man  in  perfect  and  robust  health,  and  of  station  and 
authority.  A  moment  afterwards,  a  gentleman  of 
middle  age,  or  a  little  beyond,  appeared  in  the  door- 
way, in  a  dress  that  seemed  clerical,  yet  not  very 
decidedly  so ;  he  had  a  frank,  kindly,  yet  authorita- 
tive bearing,  and  a  face  that  might  almost  be  said  to 
beam  with  geniality,  when,  as  now,  the  benevolence 
of  his  nature  was  aroused  and  ready  to  express  itself. 

"My  friend,"  said  he,  "Doctor  Portingale  tells 
me  you  are  much  better ;  and  I  am  most  happy  to 
hear  it." 

There  was  something  brusque  and  unceremonious 
in  his  manner,  that  a  little  jarred  against  BedclyfiVs 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.         167 

sensitiveness,  which  had  become  morbid  in  sympathy 
with  his  weakness.  He  felt  that  the  new-comer  had 
not  probably  the  right  idea  as  to  his  own  position  in 
life ;  he  was  addressing  him  most  kindly,  indeed,  but 
as  an  inferior. 

"  I  am  much  better,  sir,"  he  replied,  gravely,  and 
with  reserve;  "so  nearly  well,  that  I  shall  very  soon 
be  able  to  bid  farewell  to  my  kind  nurse  here,  and 
to  this  ancient  establishment,  to  which  I  owe  so 
much." 

The  visitor  seemed  struck  by  Mr.  Eedclyffe's  tone, 
and  finely  modulated  voice,  and  glanced  at  his  face, 
and  then  over  his  dress  and  figure,  as  if  to  gather 
from  them  some  reliable  data  as  to  his  station. 

"  I  am  the  Warden  of  this  Hospital,"  said  he,  with 
not  less  benignity  than  heretofore,  and  greater  cour- 
tesy ;  "  and,  in  that  capacity,  must  consider  you  im- 
der  my  care,  —  as  my  guest,  in  fact,  —  although, 
owing  to  my  casual  absence,  one  of  the  brethren  of 
the  house  has  been  the  active  instrument  in  attending 
you.  I  am  most  happy  to  find  you  so  far  recovered. 
Do  you  feel  yourself  in  a  condition  to  give  any  ac- 
count of  the  accident  which  has  befallen  you  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  very  unsatisfactory  one,  at  best,"  said 
Redclyffe,  trying  to  discover  some  definite  point  in 
his  misty  reminiscences.  "  I  am  a  stranger  to  this 
country,  and  was  on  a  pedestrian  tour  with  the  pur- 
pose of  making  myself  acquainted  with  the  aspects 
of  English  scenery  and  life.  I  had  turned  into  a 
footpath,  being  told  that  it  would  lead  me  within 


168        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

view  of  an  old  Hall,  which,  from  certain  early  asso- 
ciations, I  was  very  desirous  of  seeing.  I  think  I 
went  astray;  at  all  events,  the  path  became  indis- 
tinct ;  and,  so  far  as  I  can  recollect,  I  had  just  turned 
to  retrace  my  steps, — in  fact,  that  is  the  last  thing 
in  my  memory." 

"  You  had  almost  fallen  a  sacrifice,"  said  the  War- 
den, "  to  the  old  preference  which  our  English  gentry 
have  inherited  from  their  Norman  ancestry,  of  game 
to  man.  You  had  come  unintentionally  as  an  in- 
truder into  a  rich  preserve  much  haunted  by  poach- 
ers, and  exposed  yourself  to  the  deadly  mark  of  a 
spring-gun,  which  had  not  the  wit  to  distinguish 
between  a  harmless  traveller  and  a  poacher.  At 
least,  such  is  our  conclusion  ;  for  our  old  friend  here, 
(who  luckily  for  you  is  a  great  rambler  in  the  woods,) 
when  the  report  drew  him  to  the  spot,  found  you  in- 
sensible, and  the  gun  discharged." 

"A  gun  has  so  little  discretion,"  said  Kedclyffe, 
smiling,  "  that  it  seems  a  pity  to  trust  entirely  to  its 
judgment,  in  a  matter  of  life  and  death.  But,  to  con- 
fess the  truth,  I  had  come  this  morning  to  the  suspi- 
cion that  there  was  a  direct  human  agency  in  the 
matter  ;  for  I  find  missing  a  little  pocket-book  which 
I  carried." 

"  Then,"  said  the  Warden,  "  that  certainly  gives  a 
new  aspect  to  the  affair.  Was  it  of  value  ?  " 

"  Of  none  whatever,"  said  Eedclyffe,  "  merely  con- 
taining pencil  memoranda,  and  notes  of  a  traveller's 
little  expenses.  I  had  papers  about  me  of  far  more 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         169 

value,  and  a  moderate  sum  of  money,  a  letter  of 
credit,  which  have  escaped.  I  do  not,  however,  feel 
inclined,  on  such  grounds,  to  transfer  the  guilt  de- 
cidedly from  the  spring-gun  to  any  more  responsible 
criminal ;  for  it  is  very  possible  that  the  pocket-book, 
being  carelessly  carried,  might  have  been  lost  on  the 
way.  I  had  not  used  it  since  the  preceding  day." 

"  Much  more  probable,  indeed,"  said  the  Warden. 
'•  The  discharged  gun  is  strong  evidence  against  it- 
self. Mr.  Colcord,"  continued  he,  raising  his  voice, 
"  how  long  was  the  interval  between  the  discharge  of 
the  gun  and  your  arrival  on  the  spot." 

"  Five  minutes,  or  less,"  said  the  old  man,  "  for  I 
was  not  far  orf,  and  made  what  haste  I  could,  it  being 
borne  in  on  ray  spirit  that  mischief  was  abroad." 

"  Did  you  hear  two  reports  ? "  asked  the  Warden. 

"  Only  one,"  replied  Colcord. 

"  It  is  a  plain  case  against  the  spring-gun,"  said  the 
Warden;  "and,  as  you. tell  me  you  are  a  stranger,  I 
trust  you  will  not  suppose  that  our  peaceful  English 
woods  and  parks  are  the  haunt  of  banditti.  We  must 
try  to  give  you  a  better  idea  of  us.  May  I  ask,  are 
you  an  American,  and  recently  come  among  us  ? " 

"  I  believe  a  letter  of  credit  is  considered  as  deci- 
sive as  most  modes  of  introduction,"  said  EedclyfTe, 
feeling  that  the  good  Warden  was  desirous  of  know- 
ing with  some  precision  who  and  what  hie  was,  and 
that,  in  the  circumstances,  he  had  a  right  to  such 
knowledge.  "  Here  is  mine,  on  a  respectable  house 
in  London." 


170        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

The  Warden  took  it,  and  glanced  it  over  with  a 
slight  apologetic  bow  ;  it  was  a  credit  for  a  hand- 
some amount  in  favor  of  the  Honorable  Edward 
Eedclyffe,  a  title  that  did  not  fail  to  impress  the 
Englishman  rather  favorably  towards  his  new  ac- 
quaintance, although  he  happened  to  know  some- 
thing of  their  abundance,  even  so  early  in  the 
republic,  among  the  men  branded  sous  of  equality. 
But,  at  all  events,  it  showed  no  ordinary  ability  and 
energy  for  so  young  a  man  to  have  held  such  posi- 
tion as  this  title  denoted  in  the  fiercely  contested 
political  struggles  of  the  new  democracy. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Redclyffe,  that  this  name  is 
familiar  to  us,  hereabouts  ? "  asked  he,  with  a  kindly 
bow  and  recognition,  —  "  that  it  is  in  fact  the  princi- 
pal name  in  this  neighborhood,  —  that  a  family  of 
your  name  still  possesses  Braithwaite  Hall,  and  that 
this  very  Hospital,  where  you  have  happily  found 
shelter,  was  founded  by  former  representatives  of 
your  name  ?  Perhaps  you  .count  yourself  among 
their  kindred." 

"  My  countrymen  are  apt  to  advance  claims  to 
kinship  with  distinguished  English  families  on  such 
slight  grounds  as  to  make  it  ridiculous,"  said  Eed- 
clyffe, coloring.  "I  should  not  choose  to  follow  so 
absurd  an  example." 

"  Well,  well,  perhaps  not,"  said  the  Warden,  laugh- 
ing frankly.  "  I  have  been  amongst  your  republicans 
myself,  a  long  while  ago,  and  saw  that  your  country- 
men have  no  adequate  idea  of  the  sacreduess  of  pedi- 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHA  WE'S   SECRET.         171 

grees,  and  heraldic  distinctions,  and  would  change 
their  own  names  at  pleasure,  and  vaunt  kindred  with 
an  English  duke  on  the  strength  of  the  assumed  one. 
But  I  am  happy  to  meet  an  American  gentleman  who 
looks  upon  this  matter  as  Englishmen  necessarily 
must.  I  met  with  great  kindness  in  your  country, 
Mr.  Kedclyffe,  and  shall  be  truly  happy  if  you  will 
allow  me  an  opportunity  of  returning  some  small  part 
of  the  obligation.  You  are  now  in  a  condition  for  re- 
moval to  iny  own  quarters,  across  the  quadrangle.  I 
will  give  orders  to  prepare  an  apartment,  and  you 
must  transfer  yourself  there  by  dinner-time." 

With  this  hospitable  proposal,  so  decisively  ex- 
pressed, the  Warden  took  his  leave  ;  and  Edward  Red- 
clyffe  had  hardly  yet  recovered  sufficient  independent 
force  to  reject  an  invitation  so  put,  even  were  he  in- 
clined ;  but,  in  truth,  the  proposal  suited  well  with 
his  wishes,  such  as  they  were,  and  was,  moreover, 
backed,  it  is  singular  to  say,  by  another  of  those 
dreamlike  recognitions  which  had  so  perplexed  him 
ever  since  he  found  himself  in  the  Hospital.  In 
some  previous  state  of  being,  the  Warden  and  he 
had  talked  together  before. 

"  What  is  the  Warden's  name  ? "  he  inquired  of  the 
old  pensioner. 

"  Hammond,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  he  is  a  kinsman 
of  the  Redclyffe  family  himself,  a  man  of  fortune,  and 
spends  more  than  the  income  of  his  wardenship  in 
beautifying  and  keeping  up  the  glory  of  the  establish- 
ment. He  takes  great  pride  in  it." 


172         DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"And  lie  has  been  in  America,"  said  Bedclyffe. 
"  How  strange  \  I  knew  him  there.  Never  was  any- 
thing so  singular  as  the  discovery  of  old  acquaintances 
where  I  had  reason  to  suppose  myself  unknowing  and 
unknown.  Unless  dear  Doctor  Grim,  or  dear  little 
Elsie,  were  to  start  up  and  greet  me,  I  know  not  what 
may  chance  next." 

Eedclyffe  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  Warden's 
house  the  next  day,  and  was  installed  in  an  apart- 
ment that  made  a  picture,  such  as  lie  had  not  before 
seen,  of  English  household  comfort.  He  was  thus 
established  under  the  good  Warden's  roof,  and,  being 
very  attractive  of  most  people's  sympathies,  soon 
began  to  grow  greatly  in  favor  with  that  kindly 
personage. 

When  Edward  Eedclyffe  removed  from  the  old  pen- 
sioner's narrow  quarters  to  the  far  ampler  accommo- 
dations of  the  Warden's  house,  the  latter  gentleman 
was  taking  his  morning  exercise  on  horseback.  A 
servant,  however,  in  a  grave  livery,  ushered  him  to 
an  apartment,  where  the  new  guest  was  surprised  to 
see  some  luggage  which  two  or  three  days  before 
Edward  had  ordered  from  London,  on  finding  that  his 
stay  in  this  part  of  the  country  was  likely  to  be  much 
longer  than  he  had  originally  contemplated.  The 
sight  of  these  things  —  the  sense  which  they  conveyed 
that  he  was  an  expected  and  welcome  guest  —  tended 
to  raise  the  spirits  of  the  solitary  wanderer,  and  made 
him  .  .  .  -1 

The  Warden's  abode  was  an  original  part  of  the 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         173 

ancient   establishment,  being  an  entire  side  of  the 
quadrangle  which  the  whole  edifice  surrounded ;  and 
for  the  establishment  of  a  bachelor  (which  was  his 
new  friend's  condition),  it  seemed  to  Edward  Eedclyffe 
abundantly  spacious  and  enviably  comfortable.     His 
own  chamber  had  a  grave,  rich  depth,  as  it  were,  of 
serene  and  time-long  garniture,  for  purposes  of  repose, 
convenience,  daily  and  nightly  comfort,  that  it  was 
soothing  even  to  look  at.     Long  accustomed,  as  Red- 
clyffe  had  been,  to  the  hardy  and  rude  accommoda- 
tions, if  so  they  were  to  be  called,  of  log  huts  and 
hasty,  mud-built   houses   in  the  Western   States    of 
America,  life,  its  daily  habits,  its  passing  accommoda- 
tions, seemed  to  assume  an  importance,  under  these 
aspects,  which  it  had  not  worn  before ;   those  deep 
downy  beds,  those  antique  chairs,  the  heavy  carpet, 
the   tester   and    curtains,  the  stateliness  of  the  old 
room,  —  they  had  a  charm,  as  compared  with  the  thin 
preparation  of  a  forester's  bedchamber,  such  as  Eed- 
clyffe had  chiefly  known  them,  in  the  ruder  parts  of 
the  country,  that  really  seemed  to  give  a  more  sub- 
stantial value  to  life ;  so  much  pains  had  been  taken 
with  its  modes  and  appliances,  that  it  looked  more 
solid  than  before.     Nevertheless,  there  was  something 
ghostly  in  that  stately  curtained  bed,  with  the  deep 
gloom  within  its  drapery,  so  ancient  as  it  was ;  and 
suggestive  of  slumberers  there  who  had  long  since 
slumbered  elsewhere. 

The  old  servant,  whose  grave,  circumspect  courtesy 
was  a  matter  quite  beyond  Redclyffe's  experience, 


174        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

soon  knocked  at  the  chamber  door,  and  suggested 
that  the  guest  might  desire  to  await  the  Warden's 
arrival  in  the  library,  which  was  the  customary  sit- 
ting-room. Eedclyffe  assenting,  he  was  ushered  into 
a  spacious  apartment,  lighted  by  various  Gothic  win- 
dows, surrounded  with  old  oaken  cases,  in  which 
were  ranged  volumes,  most  or  many  of  which  seemed 
to  be  coeval  with  the  foundation  of  the  hospital ;  and 
opening  one  of  them,  Eedclyffe  saw  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  2  a  genuine  book- worm,  that  ancient  form 
of  creature  living  upon  literature ;  it  had  gnawed  a 
circular  hole,  penetrating  through  perhaps  a  score  of 
pages  of  the  seldom  opened  volume,  and  was  still  at 
his  musty  feast.  There  was  a  fragrance  of  old  learn- 
ing in  this  ancient  library;  a  soothing  influence,  as 
the  American  felt,  of  time-honored  ideas,  where  the 
strife,  novelties,  uneasy  agitating  conflict,  attrition  of 
unsettled  theories,  fresh-springing  thought,  did  not 
attain  a  foothold ;  a  good  place  to  spend  a  life  which 
should  not  be  agitated  with  the  disturbing  element ; 
so  quiet,  so  peaceful;  how  slowly,  with  how  little 
wear,  would  the  years  pass  here  !  How  unlike  what 
he  had  hitherto  known,  and  was  destined  to  know,  — 
the  quick,  violent  struggle  of  his  mother  country, 
which  had  traced  lines  in  his  young  brow  already. 
How  much  would  be  saved  by  taking  his  former 
existence,  not  as  dealing  with  things  yet  malleable, 
but  with  fossils,  things  that  had  had  their  life,  and 
now  were  unchangeable,  and  revered,  here ! 

At  one  end  of  this  large  room  there  was  a  bowed 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         175 

window,  the  space  near  which  was  curtained  off  from 
the  rest  of  the  library,  and,  the  window  being  filled 
with  painted  glass  (most  of  which  seemed  old,  though 
there  were  insertions  evidently  of  modern  and  much 
inferior  handiwork),  there  was  a  rich  gloom  of  light, 
or  you  might  call  it  a  rich  glow,  according  to  your 
mood  of  mind.  Redclyffe  soon  perceived  that  this 
curtained  recess  was  the  especial  study  of  his  friend, 
the  Warden,  and  as  such  was  provided  with  all  that 
modern  times  had  contrived  for  making  an  enjoy- 
ment out  of  the  perusal  of  old  books;  a  study  table, 
with  every  convenience  of  multifarious  devices,  a 
great  inkstand,  pens ;  a  luxurious  study  chair,  where 
thought  [illegible]  upon.  To  say  the  truth,  there  was 
not,  in  this  retired  and  thoughtful  nook,  anything 
that  indicated  to  Redclyffe  that  the  Warden  had  been 
recently  engaged  in  consultation  of  learned  authori- 
ties, —  or  in  abstract  labor,  whether  moral,  metaphys- 
ical or  historic ;  there  was  a  volume  of  translations 
of  Mother  Goose's  Melodies  into  Greek  and  Latin, 
printed  for  private  circulation,  and  with  the  War- 
den's name  on  the  title-page  ;  a  London  newspaper 
of  the  preceding  day ;  Lillebullero,  Chevy  Chase, 
and  the  old  political  ballads ;  and,  what  a  little 
amused  Redclyffe,  the  three  volumes  of  a  novel  from 
a  circulating  library ;  so  that  Redclyffe  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  good  Warden,  like  many  educated 
men,  whose  early  scholastic  propensities  are  backed 
up  by  the  best  of  opportunities,  and  all  desirable 
facilities  and  surroundings,  still  contented  himself 


176         DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

with  gathering  a  flower  or  two,  instead  of  attempting 
the  hard  toil  requisite  to  raise  a  crop. 

It  must  not  be  omitted,  that  there  was  a  fragrance 
in  the  room,  which,  unlike  as  the  scene  was,  brought 
back,  through  so  many  years,  to  Kedclyffe's  mind  a 
most  vivid  remembrance  of  poor  old  Doctor  Grim's 
squalid  chamber,  with  his  wild,  bearded  presence  in 
the  midst  of  it,  puffing  his  everlasting  cloud ;  for 
here  was  the  same  smell  of  tobacco,  and  on  the  man- 
tel-piece of  a  chimney  lay  a  German  pipe,  and  an  old 
silver  tobacco-box  into  which  was  wrought  the  leop- 
ard's head  and  the  inscription  in  black  letter.  The 
Warden  had  evidently  availed  himself  of  one  of  the 
chief  bachelor  sources  of  comfort.  Kedclyffe,  whose 
destiny  had  hitherto,  and  up  to  a  very  recent  period, 
been  to  pass  a  feverishly  active  life,  was  greatly  im- 
pressed by  all  these  tokens  of  learned  ease, — a  degree 
of  self-indulgence  combined  with  duties  enough  to 
quiet  an  otherwise  uneasy  conscience,  —  by  the  con- 
sideration that  this  pensioner  acted  a  good  part  in  a 
world  where  no  one  is  entitled  to  be  an  unprofitable 
laborer.  He  thought  within  himself,  that  his  pros- 
pects in  his  own  galvanized  country,  that  seemed  to 
him,  a  few  years  since,  to  offer  such  a  career  for  an 
adventurous  young  man,  conscious  of  motive  power, 
had  nothing  so  enticing  as  such  a  nook  as  this,  — 
a  quiet  recess  of  unchangeable  old  time,  around 
which  the  turbulent  tide  now  eddied  and  rushed,  but 
could  not  disturb  it.  Here,  to  be  sure,  hope,  love, 
ambition,  came  not,  progress  came  not ;  but  here  was 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         177 

what,  just  now,  the  early  wearied  American  could 
appreciate  better  than  aught  else,  —  here  was  rest. 

The  fantasy  took  Edward  to  imitate  the  useful 
labors  of  the  learned  Warden,  and  to  make  trial 
whether  his  own  classical  condition  —  the  results  of 
Doctor  Grim's  tuition,  and  subsequently  that  of  an 
American  College  —  had  utterly  deserted  him,  by 
attempting  a  translation  of  a  few  verses  of  Yankee 
Doodle ;  and  he  was  making  hopeful  progress  when 
the  Warden  came  in  fresh  and  rosy  from  a  morning's 
ride  in  a  keen  east  wind.  He  shook  hands  heartily 
with  his  guest,  and,  though  by  no  means  frigid  at 
their  former  interview,  seemed  to  have  developed  at 
once  into  a  kindlier  man,  now  that  he  had  suffered 
the  stranger  to  cross  his  threshold,  and  had  thus 
made  himself  responsible  for  his  comfort. 

"  I  shall  take  it  greatly  amiss,"  said  he,  "  if  you  do 
not  pick  up  fast  under  my  roof,  and  gather  a  little 
English  ruddiness,  moreover,  in  the  walks  and  rides 
that  I  mean  to  take  you.  Your  countrymen,  as  I 
saw  them,  are  a  sallow  set ;  but  I  think  you  must 
have  English  blood  enough  in  your  veins  to  eke  out 
a  ruddy  tint,  with  the  help  of  good  English  beef 
and  ale,  and  daily  draughts  of  wholesome  light  and 
air." 

"  My  cheeks  would  not  have  been  so  very  pale," 
said  Edward,  laughing,  "  if  an  English  shot  had  not 
deprived  me  of  a  good  deal  of  my  American  blood." 

"  Only   follow   my  guidance,"    said   the   Warden, 
"and  I  assure  you  you  shall  have  back  whatever 
12 


178         DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S   SECRET. 

blood  we  have  deprived  you  of,  together  with  an 
addition.  It  is  now  luncheon-time,  and  we  will  be- 
gin the  process  of  replenishing  your  veins." 

So  they  went  into  a  refectory,  where  were  spread 
upon  the  board  what  might  have  seemed  a  goodly  din- 
ner to  most  Americans;  though  for  this  Englishman  it 
was  but  a  by-incident,  a  slight  refreshment,  to  enable 
him  to  pass  the  midway  stage  of  life.  It  is  an  ex- 
cellent thing  to  see  the  faith  of  a  hearty  Englishman 
in  his  own  stomach,  and  how  well  that  kindly  organ 
repays  his  trust;  with  what  devout  assimilation  he 
takes  to  himself  his  kindred  beef,  loving  it,  believ- 
ing in  it,  making  a  good  use  of  it,  and  without  any 
qualms  of  conscience  or  prescience  as  to  the  result. 
They  surely  eat  twice  as  much  as  we ;  and  probably 
because  of  their  undoubted  faith  it  never  does  them 
any  harm.  Dyspepsia  is  merely  a  superstition  with 
us.  If  we  could  cease  to  believe  in  its  existence,  it 
would  exist  no  more.  Kedclyffe,  eating  little  him- 
self, his  wound  compelling  him  to  be  cautious  as  to 
his  diet,  was  secretly  delighted  to  see  what  sweets  the 
Warden  found  in  a  cold  round  of  beef,  in  a  pigeon 
pie,  and  a  cut  or  two  of  Yorkshire  ham  ;  not  that  he 
was  ravenous,  but  that  his  stomach  was  so  healthy. 

"  You  eat  little,  my  friend,"  said  the  Warden,  pour- 
ing out  a  glass  of  sherry  for  Kedclyffe,  and  another 
for  himself.  "  But  you  are  right,  in  such  a  predica- 
ment as  yours.  Spare  your  stomach  while  you  are 
weakly,  and  it  will  help  you  when  you  are  strong. 
This,  now,  is  the  most  enjoyable  meal  of  the  day 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.         179 

with  me.  You  will  not  see  me  play  such  a  knife 
and  fork  at  dinner ;  though  there  too,  especially  if  I 
have  ridden  out  in  the  afternoon,  I  do  pretty  well. 
But,  come  now,  if  (like  most  of  your  countrymen,  as 
I  have  heard)  you  are  a  lover  of  the  weed,  I  can  offer 
you  some  as  delicate  Latakia  as  you  are  likely  to  find 
in  England." 

"  I  lack  that  claim  upon  your  kindness,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,"  replied  Redclyffe.  "  I  am  not  a  good  smoker, 
though  I  have  occasionally  taken  a  cigar  at  need." 

"Well,  when  you  find  yourself  growing  old,  and 
especially  if  you  chance  to  be  a  bachelor,  I  advise 
you  to  cultivate  the  habit,"  said  the  Warden.  "  A 
wife  is  the  only  real  obstacle  or  objection  to  a  pipe  ; 
they  can  seldom  be  thoroughly  reconciled,  and  there- 
fore it  is  well  for  a  man  to  consider,  beforehand, 
which  of  the  two  he  can  best  dispense  with.  I  know 
not  how  it  might  have  been  once,  had  the  conflicting 
claim  of  these  two  rivals  ever  been  fairly  presented 
to  me  ;  but  I  now  should  be  at  no  loss  to  choose  the 
pipe." 

They  returned  to  the  study ;  and  while  the  War- 
den took  his  pipe,  Redclyffe,  considering  that,  as  the 
guest  of  this  hospitable  Englishman,  he  had  no  right 
to  continue  a  stranger,  thought  it  fit  to  make  known 
to  him  who  he  was,  and  his  condition,  plans,  and 
purposes.  He  represented  himself  as  having  been 
i  liberally  educated,  bred  to  the  law,  but  (to  his  mis- 
fortune) having  turned  aside  from  that  profession  to 
engage  in  politics.  In  this  pursuit,  indeed,  his  sue- 


180         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

cess  wore  a  flattering  outside  ;  for  he  had  become 
distinguished,  and,  though  so  young,  a  leader,  locally 
at  least,  in  the  party  which  he  had  adopted.    He  had 
been,  for  a  biennial  term,  a  member  of  Congress,  after 
winning   some  distinction  in  the  legislature   of  his 
native  State ;   but  some  one  of  those  fitful  changes 
to  which  American  politics  are  peculiarly  liable  had 
thrown   him   out,   in   his  candidacy  for  his  second 
term  ;    and   the   virulence   of  party   animosity,   the 
abusiveness  of  the  press,  had  acted  so  much  upon 
a  disposition  naturally  somewhat  too   sensitive  for 
the  career  which  he  had  undertaken,  that  lie  had 
resolved,  being  now  freed  from  legislative  cares,  to 
seize  the  opportunity  for  a  visit  to  England,  whither 
he  was  drawn  by  feelings  which  every  educated  and 
impressible  American  feels,  in  a  degree  scarcelv  con- 
ceivable by  the  English  themselves.     And  being  here 
(but  he  had  already  too  much  experience  of  English 
self-sufficiency  to  confess  so  much)  he  began  to  feel 
the  deep  yearning  which  a  sensitive  American  —  his 
mind  full  of  English  thoughts,  his   imagination  of 
English  poetry,  his  heart  of  English  character  and 
sentiment  —  cannot  fail  to  be  influenced  by,  —  the 
yearning  of  the  blood  within  his  veins  for  that  from 
which  it  has  been  estranged  ;  the  half-fanciful  regret 
that  he  should  ever  have  been  separated  from  these 
woods,  these  fields,  these  natural  features  of  scenery, 
to  which  his   nature   was   moulded,   from  the  men 
who  are  still  so  like  himself,  from  these  habits  of 
life  and  thought  which   (though  he  may  not  have 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.        181 

known  them  for  two  centuries)  he  still  perceives  to 
have  remained  in  some  mysterious  way  latent  in  the 
depths  of  his  character,  and  soon  to  be  reassumed, 
not  as  a  foreigner  would  do  it,  but  like  habits  native 
to  him,  and  only  suspended  for  a  season. 

This  had  been  Kedclyffe's  state  of  feeling  ever 
since  he  landed  in  England,  and  every  day  seemed 
to  make  him  more  at  home ;  so  that  it  seemed  as  if 
he  were  gradually  awakening  to  a  former  reality. 


182         DOCTOR    GRIMSHAW&S   SECRET. 


CHAPTEK  XV. 

AFTER  lunch  the  Warden  showed  a  good  degree  of 
kind  anxiety  about  his  guest,  and  ensconced  him  in  a 
most  comfortable  chair  in  his  study,  where  he  gave 
him  his  choice  of  books  old  and  new,  and  was  some- 
what surprised,  as  well  as  amused,  to  see  that  Ked- 
clyffe  seemed  most  attracted  towards  a  department 
of  the  library  filled  with  books  of  English  antiquities, 
and  genealogies,  and  heraldry ;  the  two  latter,  indeed, 
having  the  preference  over  the  others. 

"This  is  very  remarkable,"  said  he,  smiling.  "By 
what  right  or  reason,  by  what  logic  of  character,  can 
you,  a  democrat,  renouncing  all  advantages  of  birth, 
—  neither  priding  yourself  on  family,  nor  seeking  to 
found  one,  —  how  therefore  can  you  care  for  genealo- 
gies, or  for  this  fantastic  science  of  heraldry  ?  Hav- 
ing no  antiquities,  being  a  people  just  made,  how  can 
you  care  for  them  ? " 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Eedclyffe,  "I  doubt  whether 
the  most  devoted  antiquarian  in  England  ever  cares 
to  search  for  an  old  thing  merely  because  it  is  old,  as 
any  American  just  landed  on  your  shores  would  do. 
Age  is  our  novelty ;  therefore  it  attracts  and  absorbs 
us.  And  as  for  genealogies,  I  know  not  what  neces- 
sary repulsion  there  may  be  between  it  and  democ- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.        183 

racy.  A  line  of  respectable  connections,  being  the 
harder  to  preserve  where  there  is  nothing  in  the  laws 
to  defend  it,  is  therefore  the  more  precious  when  we 
have  it  really  to  boast  of." 

"  True,"  said  the  Warden,  "  when  a  race  keeps  itself 
distinguished  among  the  grimy  order  of  your  com- 
monalty, all  with  equal  legal  rights  to  place  and 
eminence  as  itself,  it  must  needs  be  because  there  is 
a  force  and  efficacy  in  the  blood.  I  doubt  not,"  he 
said,  looking  with  the  free  approval  of  an  elder  man 
at  the  young  man's  finely  developed  face  and  graceful 
form,  —  "I  doubt  not  that  you  can  look  back  upon 
a  line  of  ancestry,  always  shining  out  from  the  sur- 
rounding obscurity  of  the  mob." 

Eedclyffe,  though  ashamed  of  himself,  could  not 
but  feel  a  paltry  confusion  and  embarrassment,  as  he 
thought  of  his  unknown  origin,  and  his  advent  from 
the  almshouse ;  coming  out  of  that  squalid  darkness 
as  if  he  were  a  thing  that  had  had  a  spontaneous 
birth  out  of  poverty,  meanness,  petty  crime  ;  and  here 
in  ancestral  England,  he  felt  more  keenly  than  ever 
before  what  was  his  misfortune. 

"I  must  not  let  you  lie  under  this  impression," 
said  he  manfully  to  the  Warden.  "  I  have  no  ancestry ; 
at  the  very  first  step  my  origin  is  lost  in  impenetrable 
obscurity.  I  only  know  that  but  for  the  aid  of  a 
kind  friend  —  on  whose  benevolence  I  seem  to  have 
had  no  claim  whatever  —  my  life  would  probably 
have  been  poor,  mean,  unenlightened." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  kind  Warden, — hardly  quite 


184        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

feeling,  however,  the  noble  sentiment  which  he  ex- 
pressed,— "it  is  better  to  be  the  first  noble  illustrator 
of  a  name  than  even  the  worthy  heir  of  a  name  that 
has  been  noble  and  famous  for  a  thousand  years.  The 
highest  pride  of  some  of  our  peers,  who  have  wTon 
their  rank  by  their  own  force,  has  been  to  point  to 
the  cottage  whence  they  sprung.  Your  posterity,  at 
all  events,  will  have  the  advantage  of  you,  —  they 
will  know  their  ancestor." 

Eedclyffe  sighed,  for  there  was  truly  a  great  deal  of 
the  foolish  yearning  for  a  connection  with  the  past 
about  him ;  his  imagination  had  taken  this  turn,  and 
the  very  circumstances  of  his  obscure  birth  gave  it  a 
field  to  exercise  itself. 

"  I  advise  you,"  said  the  Warden,  by  way  of  chan- 
ging the  conversation,  "to  look  over  the  excellent 
history  of  the  county  which  you  are  now  in.  There 
is  no  reading  better,  to  my  mind,  than  these  country 
histories;  though  doubtless  a  stranger  would  hardly 
feel  so  much  interest  in  them  as  one  whose  progeni- 
tors, male  or  female,  have  strewn  their  dust  over  the 
whole  field  of  which  the  history  treats.  This  history 
is  a  fine  specimen  of  the  kind." 

The  work  to  which  Eedcliffe's  attention  was  thus 
drawn  was  in  two  large  folio  volumes,  published  about 
thirty  years  before,  bound  in  calf  by  some  famous 
artist  in  that  line,  illustrated  with  portraits  and  views 
of  ruined  castles,  churches,  cathedrals,  the  seats  of 
nobility  and  gentry ;  Roman,  British,  and  Saxon  re- 
mains, painted  windows,  oak  carvings,  and  so  forth. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        185 

And  as  for  its  contents  the  author  ascended  for  the 
history  of  the  county  as  far  as  into  the  pre-Eoman 
ages,  before  Caesar  had  ever  heard  of  Britain;  and 
brought  it  down,  an  ever  swelling  and  increasing  tale, 
to  his  own  days ;  inclusive  of  the  separate  histories, 
and  pedigrees,  and  hereditary  legends,  and  incidents, 
of  all  the  principal  families.  In  this  latter  branch 
of  information,  indeed,  the  work  seemed  particularly 
full,  and  contained  every  incident  that  would  have 
worked  well  into  historical  romance. 

"Aye,  aye,"  said  the  Warden,  laughing  at  some 
strange  incident  of  this  sort  which  Kedclyffe  read  out 
to  him.  "  My  old  friend  Gibber,  the  learned  author 
of  this  work,  (he  has  been  dead  this  score  of  years,  so 
he  will  not  mind  my  saying  it,)  had  a  little  too  much 
the  habit  of  seeking  his  authorities  in  the  cottage 
chimney-corners.  I  mean  that  an  old  woman's  tale 
was  just  about  as  acceptable  to  him  as  a  recorded 
fact ;  and  to  say  the  truth,  they  are  really  apt  to  have 
ten  times  the  life  in  them." 

Redclyffe  saw  in  the  volume  a  full  account  of  the 
founding  of  the  Hospital,  its  regulations  and  pur- 
poses, its  edifices  ;  all  of  which  he  reserved  for  future 
reading,  being  for  the  present  more  attracted  by  the 
mouldy  gossip  of  family  anecdotes  which  we  have 
alluded  to.  Some  of  these,  and  not  the  least  singular, 
referred  to  the  ancient  family  which  had  founded  the 
Hospital ;  and  he  was  attracted  by  seeing  a  mention 
of  a  Bloody  Footstep,  which  reminded  him  of  the 
strange  old  story  which  good  Doctor  Grimshawe  had 


186        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

related  by  his  New  England  fireside,  in  those  childish 
days  when  Edward  dwelt  with  him  by  the  graveyard. 
On  reading  it,  however,  he  found  that  the  English 
legend,  if  such  it  could  be  called,  was  far  less  full  and 
explicit  than  that  of  New  England.  Indeed,  it  as- 
signed various  origins  to  the  Bloody  Footstep ;  —  one 
being,  that  it  was  the  stamp  of  the  foot  of  the  Saxon 
thane,  who  fought  at  his  own  threshold  against  the 
assault  of  the  Norman  baron,  who  seized  his  mansion 
at  the  Conquest;  another,  that  it  was  the  imprint  of  a 
fugitive  who  had  sought  shelter  from  the  lady  of  the 
house  during  the  Wars  of  the  Eoses,  and  was  dragged 
out  by  her  husband,  and  slain  on  the  door-step  ;  still 
another,  that  it  was  the  footstep  of  a  Protestant  in 
Bloody  Mary's  days,  who,  being  sent  to  prison  by  the 
squire  of  that  epoch,  had  lifted  his  hands  to  Heaven, 
and  stamped  his  foot,  in  appeal  as  against  the  unjust 
violence  with  which  he  was  treated,  and  stamping  his 
foot,  it  had  left  the  bloody  mark.  It  was  hinted  too, 
however,  that  another  version,  which  out  of  delicacy 
to  the  family  the  author  was  reluctant  to  state,  as- 
signed the  origin  of  the  Bloody  Footstep  to  so  late  a 
period  as  the  wars  of  the  Parliament.  And,  finally, 
there  was  an  odious  rumor  that  what  was  called  the 
Bloody  Footstep  was  nothing  miraculous,  after  all, 
but  most  probably  a  natural  reddish  stain  in  the  stone 
door-step ;  but  against  this  heresy  the  excellent  Dr. 
Gibber  set  his  face  most  sturdily. 

The  original  legend  had  made  such  an  impression 
on  RedclyrYe's  childish  fancy,  that  he  became  strangely 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.    .     187 

interested  in  thus  discovering  it,  or  something  re- 
motely like  it,  in  England,  and  being  brought  by  such 
unsought  means  to  reside  so  near  it.  Curious  about 
the  family  to  which  it  had  occurred,  he  proceeded  to 
examine  its  records,  as  given  in  the  County  History. 
The  name  was  Kedclyffe.  Like  most  English  pedi- 
grees, there  was  an  obscurity  about  a  good  many  of 
the  earlier  links ;  but  the  line  was  traced  out  with 
reasonable  definiteness  from  the  days  of  Coeur  de  Lion, 
and  there  was  said  to  be  a  cross-legged  ancestor  in  the 
village  church,  who  (but  the  inscription  was  obliter- 
ated) was  probably  a  Redclyffe,  and  had  fought  either 
under  the  Lion  Heart  or  in  the  Crusades.  It  was,  in 
subsequent  ages,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  fami- 
lies, though  there  had  been  turbulent  men  in  all  those 
turbulent  times,  hard  fighters.  In  one  age,  a  barony 
of  early  creation  seemed  to  have  come  into  the  fam- 
ily, and  had  been,  as  it  were,  playing  bo-peep  with 
the  race  for  several  centuries.  Some  of  them  had 
actually  assumed  the  title ;  others  had  given  it  up 
for  lack  of  sufficient  proof;  but  still  there  was  such 
a  claim,  and  up  to  the  time  at  which  this  County 
History  was  written,  it  had  neither  been  made  out, 
nor  had  the  hope  of  doing  so  been  relinquished. 

"  Have  the  family,"  asked  Kedclyffe  of  his  host, 
"ever  yet  made  out  their  claim  to  this  title,  which 
has  so  long  been  playing  the  will-of-the-wisp  with 
them  ? " 

"No,  not  yet,"  said  the  Warden,  puffing  out  a  vol- 
ume of  smoke  from  his  meerschaum,  and  making  it 


188        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

curl  up  to  the  ceiling.  "  Their  claim  has  as  little 
substance,  in  my  belief,  as  yonder  vanishing  vapor 
from  my  pipe.  But  they  still  keep  up  their  delusion. 
I  had  supposed  that  the  claim  would  perish  with  the 
last  squire,  who  was  a  childless  man,  —  at  least,  with- 
out legitimate  heirs;  but  this  estate  passed  to  one 
whom  we  can  scarcely  call  an  Englishman,  he  being  a 
Catholic,  the  descendant  of  forefathers  who  have  lived 
in  Italy  since  the  time  of  George  II.,  and  who  is, 
moreover,  a  Catholic.  We  English  would  not  will- 
ingly see  an  ancestral  honor  in  the  possession  of  such 
a  man  ! " 

"  Is  there,  do  you  think,  a  prospect  of  his  success  ? " 
"  I  have  heard  so,  but  hardly  believe  it,"  replied 
the  Warden.  "  I  remember,  some  dozen  or  fifteen 
years  ago,  it  was  given  out  that  some  clue  had  been 
found  to  the  only  piece  of  evidence  that  was  wanting. 
It  had  been  said  that  there  was  an  emigration  to  your 
own  country,  above  a  hundred  years  ago,  and  on  ac- 
count of  some  family  feud ;  the  true  heir  had  gone 
thither  and  never  returned.  Now,  the  point  was  to 
prove  the  extinction  of  this  branch  of  the  family 
But,  excuse  me,  I  must  pay  an  official  visit  to  my 
charge  here.  Will  you  accompany  me,  or  continue 
to  pore  over  the  County  History  ?  " 

Redclyffe  felt  enough  of  the  elasticity  of  convales- 
cence to  be  desirous  of  accompanying  the  Warden ; 
and  they  accordingly  crossed  the  enclosed  quadrangle 
to  the  entrance  of  the  Hospital  portion  of  the  large 
and  intricate  structure.  It  was  a  building  of  the 


DOCTOR   GR1MSHA  WE'S  SECRET.         189 

early  Elizabethan  age,  a  plaster  and  timber  structure, 
like  many  houses  of  that  period  and  much  earlier.1 
Around  this  court  stood  the  building,  with  the  date 
1437  cut  on  the  front.  On  each  side,  a  row  of  gables 
looked  upon  the  enclosed  space,  most  venerable  old 
gables,  with  heavy  mullioned  windows  filled  with 
little  diamond  panes  of  glass,  and  opening  on  lat- 
tices. On  two  sides  there  was  a  cloistered  walk,  un- 
der echoing  arches,  and  in  the  midst  a  spacious  lawn 
of  the  greenest  and  loveliest  grass,  such  as  England 
only  can  show,  and  which,  there,  is  of  perennial  ver- 
dure and  beauty.  In  the  midst  stood  a  stone  statue 
of  a  venerable  man,  wrought  in  the  best  of  mediaeval 
sculpture,  with  robe  and  ruff,  and  tunic  and  venerable 
beard,  resting  on  a  staff,  and  holding  \vhat  looked  like 
a  clasped  book  in  his  hand.  The  English  atmos- 
phere, together  with  the  coal  smoke,  settling  down  in 
the  space  of  centuries  from  the  chimneys  of  the  Hos- 
pital, had  roughened  and  blackened  this  venerable 
piece  of  sculpture,  enclosing  it  as  it  were  in  a  super- 
ficies of  decay  ;  but  still  (and  perhaps  the  niore'from 
these  tokens  of  having  stood  so  long  among  men)  the 
statue  had  an  aspect  of  venerable  life,  and  of  con- 
nection with  human  life,  that  made  it  strongly  im- 
pressive. 

"  This  is  the  effigy  of  Sir  Edward  Eedclyffe,  the 
founder  of  the  Hospital,"  said  the  Warden.  "  He  is 
a  most  peaceful  and  venerable  old  gentleman  in  his 
attire  and  aspect,  as  you  see  ;  but  he  was  a  fierce  old 
fellow  in  his  day,  and  is  said  to  have  founded  the 


190        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

Hospital  as  a  means  of  appeasing  Heaven  for  some 
particular  deed  of  blood,  which  he  had  imposed  upon 
his  conscience  in  the  War  of  the  Eoses." 

"  Yes,"  said  Eedclyffe,  "  I  have  just  read  in  the 
County  History  that  the  Bloody  Footstep  was  said  to 
have  been  imprinted  in  his  time.  But  what  is  that 
thing  which  he  holds  in  his  hand  ? " 

"  It  is  a  famous  heirloom  of  the  Kedclyffes,"  said 
the  Warden,  "  on  the  possession  of  which  (as  long  as 
they  did  possess  it)  they  prided  themselves,  it  is  said, 
more  than  on  their  ancient  manor-house.  It  was  a 
Saxon  ornament,  which  a  certain  ancestor  was  said 
to  have  had  from  Harold,  the  old  Saxon  king ;  but  if 
there  ever  was  any  such  article,  it  has  been  missing 
from  the  family  mansion  for  two  or  three  hundred 
years.  There  is  not  known  to  be  an  antique  relic  of 
that  description  now  in  existence." 

"  I  remember  having  seen  such  an  article,  —  yes, 
precisely  of  that  shape,"  observed  Eedclyffe,  "  in  the 
possession  of  a  very  dear  old  friend  of  mine,  when  I 
was  a  boy." 

"  What,  in  America  ? "  exclaimed  the  Warden. 
"That  is  very  remarkable.  The  time  of  its  being 
missed  coincides  well  enough  with  that  of  the  early 
settlement  of  New  England.  Some  Puritan,  before 
his  departure,  may  have  thought  himself  doing  God 
service  by  filching  the  old  golden  gewgaw  from  the 
Cavalier ;  for  it  was  said  to  be  fine,  ductile  gold." 

The  circumstances  struck  Eedclyffe  with  a  pleasant 
wonder ;  for,  indeed,  the  old  statue  held  the  closest 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         191 

possible  imitation,  in  marble,  of  that  strange  old  glitter 
of  gold  which  he  himself  had  so  often  played  with  in 
the  Doctor's  study  ; 2  so  identical,  that  he  could  have 
fancied  that  he  saw  the  very  thing,  changed  from 
metal  into  stone,  even  with  its  bruises  and  other 
casual  marks  in  it.  As  he  looked  at  the  old  statue, 
his  imagination  played  with  it,  and  his  naturally 
great  impressibility  half  made  him  imagine  that  the 
old  face  looked  at  him  with  a  keen,  subtile,  wary 
glance,  as  if  acknowledging  that  it  held  some  se- 
cret, but  at  the  same  time  defying  him  to  find  it 
out.  And  then  again  came  that  visionary  feeling 
that  had  so  often  swept  over  him  since  he  had 
been  an  inmate  of  the  Hospital. 

All  over  the  interior  part  of  the  building  was 
carved  in  stone  the  leopard's  head,  with  wearisome 
iteration ;  as  if  the  founder  were  anxious  to  imprint 
his  device  so  numerously,  lest  —  when  he  produced 
this  edifice  as  his  remuneration  to  Eternal  Justice 
for  many  sins  —  the  Omniscient  Eye  should  fail  to 
be  reminded  that  Sir  Edward  Eedclyffe  had  done  it. 
But,  at  all  events,  it  seemed  to  Eedclyffe  that  the 
ancient  knight  had  purposed  a  good  thing,  and  in  a 
measurable  degree  had  effected  it ;  for  here  stood  the 
venerable  edifice  securely  founded,  bearing  the  moss 
of  four  hundred  years  upon  it ;  and  though  wars,  and 
change  of  dynasties,  and  religious  change,  had  swept 
around  it,  with  seemingly  destructive  potency,  yet 
here  had  the  lodging,  the  food,  the  monastic  privi- 
leges of  the  brethren  been  held  secure,  and  were  un- 


192        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

changed  by  all  the  altering  manners  of  the  age.  The 
old  fellow,  somehow  or  other,  seemed  to  have  struck 
upon  an  everlasting  rock,  and  founded  his  pompous 
charity  there. 

They  entered  an  arched  door  on  the  left  of  the 
quadrangle,  and  found  themselves  in  a  dark  old 
hall  with  oaken  beams ;  to  say  the  truth,  it  was  a 
barn-like  sort  of  enclosure,  and  was  now  used  as  a 
sort  of  rubbish-place  for  the  Hospital,  where  they 
stored  away  old  furniture,  and  where  carpenter's  work 
might  be  clone.  And  yet,  as  the  Warden  assured  Ked- 
clyffe,  it  was  once  a  hall  of  state,  hung  with  tapestry, 
carpeted,  for  aught  he  knew,  with  cloth  of  gold,  and 
set  with  rich  furniture,  and  a  groaning  board  in  the 
midst.  Here,  the  hereditary  patron  of  the  Hospital 
had  once  entertained  King  James  the  First,  who  made 
a  Latin  speech  on  the  occasion,  a  copy  of  which  was 
still  preserved  in  the  archives.  On  the  rafters  of  this 
old  hall  there  were  cobwebs  in  sucli  abundance  that 
Redclyffe  could  not  but  reflect  on  the  joy  which  old 
Doctor  Grimshawe  would  have  had  in  seeing  them, 
and  the  health  to  the  human  race  which  he  would 
have  hoped  to  collect  and  distil  from  them. 

From  this  great,  antique  room  they  crossed  the 
quadrangle  and  entered  the  kitchen  of  the  establish- 
ment. A  hospitable  fire  was  burning  there,  and  there 
seemed  to  be  a  great  variety  of  messes  cooking;  and 
the  Warden  explained  to  Redclyffe  that  there  was 
no  general  table  in  the  Hospital ;  but  the  brethren,  at 
their  own  will  and  pleasure,  either  formed  themselves 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.         193 

into  companies  or  messes,  of  any  convenient  size,  or 
enjoyed  a  solitary  meal  by  themselves,  each  in  their 
own  apartments.  There  was  a  goodly  choice  of  sim- 
ple, but  good  and  enjoyable  food,  and  a  sufficient 
supply  of  potent  ale,  brewed  in  the  vats  of  the  Hos- 
pital, which,  among  its  other  praiseworthy  character- 
istics, was  famous  for  this;  having  at  some  epoch 
presumed  to  vie  with  the  famous  ale  of  Trinity,  in 
Cambridge,  and  the  Archdeacon  of  Oxford,  —  these 
having  come  down  to  the  hospital  from  a  private  re- 
ceipt of  Sir  Edward's  butler,  which  was  now  lost  in 
the  Redclyffe  family ;  nor  would  the  ungrateful  Hos- 
pital give  up  its  secret  even  out  of  loyalty  to  its 
founder. 

"  I  would  use  my  influence  with  the  brewer,"  said 
the  Warden,  on  communicating  this  little  fact  to  Eed- 
clyffe ;  "  but  the  present  man  —  now  owner  of  the 
estate  —  is  not  worthy  to  have  good  ale  brewed  in 
his  house ;  having  himself  no  taste  for  anything  but 
Italian  wines,  wretched  fellow  that  he  is !  He  might 
make  himself  an  Englishman  if  he  would  take  heart- 
ily to  our  ale ;  and  with  that  end  in  view,  I  should 
be  glad  to  give  it  him." 

The  kitchen  fire  blazed  warmly,  as  we  have  said, 
and  roast  and  stewed  and  boiled  were  in  process  of 
cooking,  producing  a  pleasant  fume,  while  great  heaps 
of  wheaten  loaves  were  smoking  hot  from  the  ovens, 
and  the  master  cook  and  his  subordinates  were  in 
fume  and  hiss,  like  beings  that  were  of  a  fiery  ele- 
ment, and,  though  irritable  and  scorching,  yet  were 

13 


194        DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

happier  here  than  they  could  have  been  in  any  other 
situation.  The  Warden  seemed  to  have  an  especial 
interest  and  delight  in  this  department  of  the  Hos- 
pital, and  spoke  apart  to  the  head  cook  on  the  subject 
(as  Kedclyffe  surmised  from  what  he  overheard)  of 
some  especial  delicacy  for  his  own  table  that  day. 

"  This  kitchen  is  a  genial  place,"  said  he  to  Bed- 
clyrYe,  as  they  retired.  "  In  the  evening,  after  the 
cooks  have  done  their  work,  the  brethren  have  liberty 
to  use  it  as  a  sort  of  common  room,  and  to  sit  here 
over  their  ale  till  a  reasonable  bedtime.  It  would 
interest  you  much  to  make  one  at  such  a  party ;  for 
they  have  had  a  varied  experience  in  life,  each  one 
for  himself,  and  it  would  be  strange  to  hear  the  varied 
roads  by  which  they  have  come  hither." 

"  Yes/'  replied  Kedclyffe,  "  and,  I  presume,  not  one 
of  them  ever  dreamed  of  coming  hither  when  he 
started  in  life.  The  only  one  with  whom  I  am 
acquainted  could  hardly  have  expected  it,  at  all 
events." 

"  He  is  a  remarkable  man,  more  so  than  you  may 
have  had  an  opportunity  of  knowing,"  said  the  War- 
den. "  I  know  not  his  history,  for  he  is  not  commu- 
nicative on  that  subject,  and  it  was  only  necessary 
for  him  to  make  out  his  proofs  of  claim  to  the  charity 
to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Curators.  But  it  has  often 
struck  me  that  there  must  have  been  strange  and 
striking  events  in  his  life, —  though  how  it  could 
have  been  without  his  attracting  attention  and  being 
known,  I  cannot  say.  I  have  myself  often  received 


DOCTOR   GRIMSffAWE'S  SECRET.        195 

good  counsel  from  him  in  the  conduct  of  tho  Hospital, 
and  the  present  owner  of  the  Hall  seems  to  have  taken 
him  for  his  counsellor  and  confidant,  being  himself 
strange  to  English  affairs  and  life." 

"  I  should  like  to  call  on  him,  as  a  matter  of  course 
rather  than  courtesy,"  observed  Kedclyffe,  "  and  thank 
him  for  his  great  kindness." 

They  accordingly  ascended  the  dark  oaken  stair- 
case with  its  black  balustrade,  and  approached  the 
old  man's  chamber,  the  door  of  which  they  found 
open,  and  in  the  blurred  looking-glass  which  hung 
deep  within  the  room  Eedclyffe  was  surprised  to 
perceive  the  young  face  of  a  woman,  who  seemed  to 
be  arranging  her  head-gear,  as  women  are  always 
doing.  It  was  but  a  moment,  and  then  it  vanished 
like  a  vision. 

"  1  was  not  aware,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  Warden, 
"that  there  was  a  feminine  side  to  this  establish- 
ment." 

"  Nor  is  there,"  said  the  old  bachelor,  "  else  it  would 
not  have  held  together  so  many  ages  as  it  has.  The 
establishment  has  its  own  wise,  monkish  regulations ; 
but  we  cannot  prevent  the  fact,  that  some  of  the 
brethren  may  have  had  foolish  relations  with  the 
other  sex  at  some  previous  period  of  their  lives.  This 
seems  to  be  the  case  with  our  wise  old  friend  of  whom 
we  have  been  speaking,  —  whereby  he  doubtless  be- 
came both  wiser  and  sadder.  If  you  have  seen  a 
female  face  here,  it  is  that  of  a  relative  who  resides 
out  of  the  hospital,  —  an  excellent  young  lady,  I 
believe,  who  has  charge  of  a  school" 


196         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

While  he  was  speaking,  the  young  lady  in  question 
passed  out,  greeting  the  Warden  in  a  cheerful,  re- 
spectful way,  in  which  deference  to  him  was  well 
combined  with  a  sense  of  what  was  due  to  herself. 

"That,"  observed  the  Warden,  who  had  returned 
her  courtesy,  with  a  kindly  air  betwixt  that  of  gentle- 
manly courtesy  and  a  superior's  acknowledgment,  — 
"that  is  the  relative  of  our  old  friend;  a  young  per- 
son —  a  gentlewoman,  I  may  almost  call  her  —  who 
teaches  a  little  school  in  the  village  here,  and  keeps 
her  guardian's  heart  warm,  no  doubt,  with  her  pres- 
ence. An  excellent  young  woman,  I  do  believe,  and 
very  useful  and  faithful  in  her  station.'* 


DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         197 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

ON  entering  the  old  palmer's  apartment,  they 
found  him  looking  over  some  ancient  papers,  yellow 
and  crabbedly  written,  and  on  one  of  them  a  large 
old  seal,  all  of  which  he  did  up  in  a  bundle  and  en- 
closed in  a  parchment  cover,  so  that,  before  they 
were  well  in  the  room,  the  documents  were  removed 
from  view. 

"Those  papers  and  parchments  have  a  fine  old 
yellow  tint,  Colcord,"  said  the  Warden,  "  very  satis- 
factory to  an  antiquary." 

"  There  is  nothing  in  them,"  said  the  old  man,  "  of 
general  interest.  Some  old  papers  they  are,  which 
came  into  my  possession  by  inheritance,  and  some  of 
them  relating  to  the  affairs  of  a  friend  of  my  youth ; 
—  a  long  past  time,  and  a  long  past  friend,"  added  he, 
sighing. 

"Here  is  a  new  friend,  at  all  events,"  said  the 
kindly  Warden,  wishing  to  cheer  the  old  man,  "  who 
feels  himself  greatly  indebted  to  you  for  your  care." l 

There  now  ensued  a  conversation  between  the 
three,  in  the  course  of  which  reference  was  made  to 
America,  and  the  Warden's  visit  there. 

"You  are   so   mobile,"  he  said,  "you  change  so 


198         DOCTOR   GRIMSHA  WE'S  SECRET. 

speedily,  that  I  suppose  there  are  few  external  things 
now  that  I  should  recognize.  The  face  of  your  coun- 
try changes  like  one  of  your  own  sheets  of  water, 
under  the  influence  of  sun,  cloud,  and  wind;  but  I 
suppose  there  is  a  depth  below  that  is  seldom  effectu- 
ally stirred.  It  is  a  great  fault  of  the  country  that  its 
sons  find  it  impossible  to  feel  any  patriotism  for  it." 

"  I  do  not  by  any  means  acknowledge  that  impos- 
sibility," responded  Eedclyffe,  with  a  smile.  "I  cer- 
tainly feel  that  sentiment  very  strongly  in  my  own 
breast,  more  especially  since  I  have  left  America 
three  thousand  miles  behind  me." 

"Yes,  it  is  only  the  feeling  of  self-assertion  that 
rises  against  the  self-complacency  of  the  English," 
said  the  Warden.  "Nothing  else;  for  what  else 
have  you  become  the  subject  of  this  noble  weakness 
of  patriotism  ?  You  cannot  love  anything  beyond 
the  soil  of  your  own  estate ;  or  in  your  case,  if  your 
heart  is  very  large,  you  may  possibly  take  in,  in  a 
quiet  sort  of  way,  the  whole  of  New  England.  What 
more  is  possible  ?  How  can  you  feel  a  heart's  love 
for  a  mere  political  arrangement,  like  your  Union  ? 
How  can  you  be  loyal,  where  personal  attachment  — 
the  lofty  and  noble  and  unselfish  attachment  of 
a  subject  to  his  prince — is  out  of  the  question? 
where  your  sovereign  is  felt  to  be  a  mere  man  like 
yourselves,  whose  petty  struggles,  whose  ambition  — 
mean  before  it  grew  to  be  audacious  —  you  have 
watched,  and  know  him  to  be  just  the  same  now  as 
yesterday,  and  that  to-morrow  he  will  be  walking  un- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        199 

honored  amongst  you  again  ?  Your  system  is  too  bare 
and  meagre  for  human  nature  to  love,  or  to  endure  it 
long.  These  stately  degrees  of  society,  that  have  so 
strong  a  hold  upon  us  in  England,  are  not  to  be  done 
away  with  so  lightly  as  you  think.  Your  experiment 
is  not  yet  a  success  by  any  means  ;  and  you  will  live 
to  see  it  result  otherwise  than  you  think ! " 

"It  is  natural  for  you  Englishmen  to  feel  thus," 
said  Eedclyffe;  "  although,  ever  since  I  set  my  foot 
on  your  shores,  —  forgive  me,  but  you  set  me  the 
example  of  free  speech,  —  I  have  had  a  feeling  of 
coming  change  among  all  that  you  look  upon  as  so 
permanent,  so  everlasting ;  and  though  your  thoughts 
dwell  fondly  on  things  as  they  are  and  have  been, 
there  is  a  deep  destruction  somewhere  in  this  coun- 
try, that  is  inevitably  impelling  it  in  the  path  of  my 
own.  But  I  care  not  for  this.  I  do  aver  that  I  love 
my  country,  that  I  am  proud  of  its  institutions,  that 
I  have  a  feeling  unknown,  probably,  to  any  but  a 
republican,  but  which  is  the  proudest  thing  in  me, 
that  there  is  no  man  above  me,  —  for  my  ruler  is 
only  myself,  in  the  person  of  another,  whose  office  I 
impose  upon  him,  —  nor  any  below  me.  If  you 
would  understand  me,  I  would  tell  you  of  the  shame 
I  felt  when  first,  on  setting  foot  in  this  country,  I 
heard  a  man  speaking  of  his  birth  as  giving  him 
privileges;  saw  him  looking  down  on  laboring  men, 
as  of  an  inferior  race.  And  what  I  can  never  under- 
stand, is  the  pride  which  you  positively  seem  to 
feel  in  having  men  and  classes  of  men  above  you, 


200        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

born  to  privileges  which  you  can  never  hope  to  share. 
It  may  be  a  thing  to  be  endured,  but  surely  not  one 
to  be  absolutely  proud  of.  And  yet  an  Englishman 
is  so." 

"Ah!  I  see  we  lack  a  ground  to  meet  upon,"  said 
the  Warden.  "  We  can  never  truly  understand  each 
other.  What  you  have  last  mentioned  is  one  of  our 
inner  mysteries.  It  is  not  a  thing  to  be  reasoned 
about,  but  to  be  felt,  —  to  be  born  within  one ;  and 
I  uphold  it  to  be  a  generous  sentiment,  and  good  for 
the  human  heart." 

"Forgive  me,  sir,"  said  Bedclyffe,  "but  I  would 
rather  be  the  poorest  and  lowest  man  in  America 
than  have  that  sentiment." 

"  But  it  might  change  your  feeling,  perhaps,"  sug- 
gested the  Warden,  "if  you  were  one  of  the  privi- 
leged class." 

"  I  dare  not  say  that  it  would  not,"  said  RedclyfTe, 
"  for  I  know  I  have  a  thousand  weaknesses,  and  have 
doubtless  as  many  more  that  I  never  suspected  my- 
self of.  But  it  seems  to  me  at  this  moment  impossi- 
ble that  I  should  ever  have  such  an  ambition,  because 
I  have  a  sense  of  meanness  in  not  starting  fair,  in 
beginning  the  world  with  advantages  that  my  fellows 
have  not." 

"  Eeally  this  is  not  wise,"  said  the  Warden,  bluntly, 
"  How  can  the  start  in  life  be  fair  for  all  ?  Provi- 
dence arranges  it  otherwise.  Did  you  yourself,  —  a 
gentleman  evidently  by  birth  and  education,  —  did 
you  start  fair  in  the  race  of  life  ? " 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        201 

Eedclyffe  remembered  what  his  birth,  or  rather  what 
his  first  recollected  place  had  been,  and  reddened. 

"  In  birth,  certainly,  I  had  no  advantages,"  said  he, 
and  would  have  explained  further  but  was  kept  back 
by  invincible  reluctance ;  feeling  that  the  bare  fact 
of  his  origin  in  an  alrnshouse  would  be  accepted,  while 
all  the  inward  assurances  and  imaginations  that  had 
reconciled  himself  to  the  ugly  fact  would  go  for  noth- 
ing. "  But  there  were  advantages,  very  early  in  life," 
added  he,  smiling,  "which  perhaps  I  ought  to  have 
been  ashamed  to  avail  myself  of." 

"An  old  cobwebby  library,  —  an  old  dwelling  by  a 
graveyard,  —  an  old  Doctor,  busied  with  his  own  fan- 
tasies, and  entangled  in  his  own  cobwebs,  —  and  a 
little  girl  for  a  playmate  :  these  were  things  that  you 
might  lawfully  avail  yourself  of,"  said  Colcord,  un- 
heard by  the  Warden,  who,  thinking  the  conversation 
had  lasted  long  enough,  had  paid  a  slight  passing 
courtesy  to  the  old  man,  and  was  now  leaving  the 
room.  "  Do  you  remain  here  long  ?  "  he  added. 

"  If  the  Warden's  hospitality  holds  out,"  said  the 
American,  "  I  shall  be  glad ;  for  the  place  interests 
me  greatly." 

"  No  wonder,"  replied  Colcord. 

"  And  wherefore  no  wonder  ? "  said  Eedclyffe,  im- 
pressed with  the  idea  that  there  was  something  pecu- 
liar in  the  tone  of  the  old  man's  remark. 

"  Because/'  returned  the  other  quietly,  "  it  must  be 
to  you  especially  interesting  to  see  an  institution  of 
this  kind,  whereby  one  man's  benevolence  or  peni- 


202        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

tence  is  made  to  take  the  substance  and  durability 
of  stone,  and  last  for  centuries ;  whereas,  in  America, 
the  solemn  decrees  and  resolutions  of  millions  melt 
away  like  vapor,  and  everything  shifts  like  the  pomp 
of  sunset  clouds ;  though  it  may  be  as  pompous  as 
they.  Heaven  intended  the  past  as  a  foundation  for 
the  present,  to  keep  it  from  vibrating  and  being  blown 
away  with  every  breeze." 

"  But,"  said  Eedclyffe,  "  I  would  not  see  in  my 
country  what  I  see  elsewhere,  —  the  Past  hanging 
like  a  mill-stone  round  a  country's  neck,  or  encrusted 
in  stony  layers  over  the  living  form ;  so  that,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  it  is  dead." 

"  Well,"  said  Colcord,  "  we  are  only  talking  of  the 
Hospital.  You  will  find  no  more  interesting  place 
anywhere.  Stay  amongst  us  ;  this  is  the  very  heart 
of  England,  and  if  you  wish  to  know  the  fatherland, 
—  the  place  whence  you  sprung,  —  this  is  the  very 
spot!" 

Again  Kedclyffe  was  struck  with  the  impression 
that  there  was  something  marked,  something  individ- 
ually addressed  to  himself,  in  the  old  man's  words ; 
at  any  rate,  it  appealed  to  that  primal  imaginative 
vein  in  him  which  had  so  often,  in  his  own  country, 
allowed  itself  to  dream  over  the  possibilities  of  his 
birth.  He  knew  that  the  feeling  was  a  vague  and 
idle  one ;  but  yet,  just  at  this  time,  a  convalescent, 
with  a  little  play  moment  in  what  had  heretofore 
been  a  turbulent  life,  he  felt  an  inclination  to  follow 
out  this  dream,  and  let  it  sport  with  him,  and  by  and 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        203 

by  to  awake  to  realities,  refreshed  by  a  season  of  un- 
reality. At  a  firmer  and  stronger  period  of  his  life, 
though  Kedclyffe  might  have  indulged  his  imagi- 
nation with  these  dreams,  yet  he  would  not  have  let 
them  interfere  with  his  course  of  action ;  but  hav- 
ing come  hither  in  utter  weariness  of  active  life,  it 
seemed  just  the  thing  for  him  to  do,  — just  the  fool's 
paradise  for  him  to  be  in. 

"  Yes,"  repeated  the  old  man,  looking  keenly  in  his 
face,  "  you  will  not  leave  us  yet." 

Eedclyffe  returned  through  the  quadrangle  to  the 
Warden's  house ;  and  there  were  the  brethren,  sitting 
on  benches,  loitering  in  the  sun,  which,  though  warm 
for  England,  seemed  scarcely  enough  to  keep  these  old 
people  warm,  even  with  their  cloth  robes.  They  did 
not  seem  unhappy ;  nor  yet  happy  ;  if  they  were  so. 
it  must  be  with  the  mere  bliss  of  existence,  a  sleepy 
sense  of  comfort,  and  quiet  dreaminess  about  things 
past,  leaving  out  the  things  to  come,  —  of  which  there 
was  nothing,  indeed,  in  their  future,  save  one  day 
after  another,  just  like  this,  with  loaf  and  ale,  and 
such  substantial  comforts,  and  prayers,  and  idle  days 
again,  gathering  by  the  great  kitchen  fire,  and  at  last 
a  day  when  they  should  not  be  there,  but  some  other 
old  men  in  their  stead.  And  Kedclyffe  wondered 
whether,  in  the  extremity  of  age,  he  himself  would 
like  to  be  one  of  the  brethren  of  the  Leopard's  Head. 
The  old  men,  he  was  sorry  to  see,  did  not  seem  very 
genial  towards  one  another;  in  fact,  there  appeared 
to  be  a  secret  enjoyment  of  one  another's  infirmities, 


204        DOCTOR    GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

wherefore  it  was  hard  to  tell,  unless  that  each  individ- 
ual might  fancy  himself  to  possess  an  advantage  over 
his  fellow,  which  he  mistook  for  a  positive  strength ; 
and  so  there  was  sometimes  a  sardonic  smile,  when, 
on  rising  from  his  seat,  the  rheumatism  was  a  little 
evident  in  an  old  fellow's  joints ;  or  when  the  palsy 
shook  another's  fingers  so  that  he  could  harely  fill  his 
pipe ;  or  when  a  cough,  the  gathered  spasmodic  trou- 
ble of  thirty  years,  fairly  convulsed  another.  Then, 
any  two  that  happened  to  be  sitting  near  one  another 
looked  into  each  other's  cold  eyes,  and  whispered, 
or  suggested  merely  by  a  look  (for  they  they  were 
bright  to  such  perceptions),  "  The  old  fellow  will  not 
outlast  another  winter." 

Methinks  it  is  not  good  for  old  men  to  be  much 
together.  An  old  man  is  a  beautiful  object  in  his 
own  place,  in  the  midst  of  a  circle  of  young  people, 
going  down  in  various  gradations  to  infancy,  and  all 
looking  up  to  the  patriarch  with  filial  reverence,  keep- 
ing him  warm  by  their  own  burning  youth ;  giving  him 
the  freshness  of  their  thought  and  feeling,  with  such 
natural  influx  that  it  seems  as  if  it  grew  within  his 
heart ;  while  on  them  he  reacts  with  an  influence  that 
sobers,  tempers,  keeps  them  down.  His  wisdom,  very 
probably,  is  of  no  great  account,  —  he  cannot  fit  to 
any  new  state  of  things ;  but,  nevertheless,  it  works  its 
effect.  In  such  a  situation,  the  old  man  is  kind  and 
genial,  mellow,  more  gentle  and  generous,  and  wider- 
minded  than  ever  before.  But  if  left  to  himself,  or 
wholly  to  the  society  of  his  contemporaries,  the  ice 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.        205 

gathers  about  his  heart,  his  hope  grows  torpid,  his 
love  —  having  nothing  of  his  own  blood  to  develop 
it  —  grows  cold;  he  becomes  selfish,  when  he  has 
nothing  in  the  present  or  the  future  worth  caring 
about  in  himself;  so  that,  instead  of  a  beautiful  object, 
he  is  an  ugly  one,  little,  mean,  and  torpid.  I  suppose 
one  chief  reason  to  be,  that  unless  he  has  his  own 
race  about  him  he  doubts  of  anybody's  love,  he  feels 
himself  a  stranger  in  the  world,  and  so  becomes  un- 
amiable. 

A  very  few  days  in  the  Warden's  hospitable  man- 
sion produced  an  excellent  effect  on  EedclyfTe's  frame ; 
his  constitution  being  naturally  excellent,  and  a  flow 
of  cheerful  spirits  contributing  much  to  restore  him 
to  health,  especially  as  the  abode  in  this  old  place, 
which  would  probably  have  been  intolerably  dull  to 
most  young  Englishmen,  had  for  this  young  American 
a  charm  like  the  freshness  of  Paradise.  In  truth  it 
had  that  charm,  and  besides  it  another  intangible, 
evanescent,  perplexing  charm,  full  of  an  airy  enjoy- 
ment, as  if  he  had  been  here  before.  What  could  it 
be  ?  It  could  be  only  the  old,  very  deepest,  inherent 
nature,  which  the  Englishman,  his  progenitor,  carried 
over  the  sea  with  him,  nearly  two  hundred  years  be- 
fore, and  which  had  lain  buried  all  that  time  under 
heaps  of  new  things,  new  customs,  new  institutions, 
new  snows  of  winter,  new  layers  of  forest  leaves,  until 
it  seemed  dead,  and  was  altogether  forgotten  as  if  it 
had  never  been  ;  but,  now,  his  return  had  seemed  to 
dissolve  or  dig  away  all  this  incrustation,  and  the  old 


206        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

English  nature  awoke  all  fresh,  so  that  he  saw  the 
green  grass,  the  hedgerows,  the  old  structures  and 
old  manners,  the  old  clouds,  the  old  raindrops,  with 
a  recognition,  and  yet  a  newness.  Bedclyffe  had 
never  been  so  quietly  happy  as  now.  He  had,  as  it 
were,  the  quietude  of  the  old  roan  about  him,  and  the 
freshness  of  his  own  still  youthful  years. 

The  Warden  was  evidently  very  favorably  im- 
pressed with  his  Transatlantic  guest,  and  he  seemed 
to  be  in  a  constant  state  of  surprise  to  find  an  Ameri- 
can so  agreeable  a  kind  of  person. 

"  You  are  just  like  an  Englishman,"  he  sometimes 
said.  "  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  were  not  born 
on  this  side  of  the  water  ? " 

This  is  said  to  be  the  highest  compliment  that  an 
Englishman  can  pay  to  an  American ;  and  doubtless 
he  intends  it  as  such.  All  the  praise  and  good  will 
that  an  Englishman  ever  awards  to  an  American  is 
so  far  gratifying  to  the  recipient,  that  it  is  meant  for 
him  individually,  and  is  not  to  be  put  down  in  the 
slightest  degree  to  the  score  of  any  regard  to  his 
countrymen  generally.  So  far  from  this,  if  an  Eng- 
lishman were  to  meet  the  whole  thirty  millions  of 
Americans,  and  find  each  individual  of  them  a  pleas- 
ant, amiable,  well-meaning,  and  well-mannered  sort 
of  fellow,  he  would  acknowledge  this  honestly  in  each 
individual  case,  but  still  would  speak  of  the  whole 
nation  as  a  disagreeable  people. 

As  regards  Kedclyffe  being  precisely  like  an  Eng- 
lishman, we  cannot  but  think  that  the  good  Warden 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        207 

was  mistaken.  No  doubt,  there  was  a  common  ground ; 
the  old  progenitor  (whose  blood,  moreover,  was  mixed 
with  a  hundred  other  streams  equally  English)  was 
still  there,  under  this  young  man's  shape,  but  with  a 
vast  difference.  Climate,  sun,  cold,  heat,  soil,  institu- 
tions, had  made  a  change  in  him  before  he  was  born, 
and  all  the  life  that  he  had  lived  since  (so  unlike  any 
that  he  could  have  lived  in  England)  had  developed 
it  more  strikingly.  In  manners,  I  cannot  but  think 
that  he  was  better  than  the  generality  of  Englishmen, 
and  different  from  the  highest-mannered  men,  though 
most  resembling  them.  His  natural  sensitiveness,  a 
tincture  of  reserve,  had  been  counteracted  by  the 
frank  mixture  with  men  which  his  political  course 
had  made  necessary  ;  he  was  quicker  to  feel  what  was 
right  at  the  moment,  than  the  Englishman ;  more 
alive ;  he  had  a  finer  grain  ;  his  look  was  more  aristo- 
cratic than  that  of  a  thousand  Englishmen  of  good 
birth  and  breeding ;  he  had  a  faculty  of  assimilating 
himself  to  new  manners,  which,  being  his  most  un- 
English  trait,  was  what  perhaps  chiefly  made  the 
Warden  think  him  so  like  an  Englishman.  When  an 
Englishman  is  a  gentleman,  to  be  sure,  it  is  as  deep  in 
him  as  the  marrow  of  his  bones,  and  the  deeper  you 
know  him,  the  more  you  are  aware  of  it,  and  that 
generation  after  generation  has  contributed  to  develop 
and  perfect  these  unpretending  manners,  which,  at 
first,  may  have  failed  to  impress  you,  under  his  plain, 
almost  homely  exterior.  An  American  often  gets  as 
good  a  surface  of  manners,  in  his  own  progress  from 


208         DOCTOR   GKIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

youth,  through  the  wear  and  attrition  of  a  successful 
life,  to  some  high  station  in  middle  age  ;  whereas  a 
plebeian  Englishman,  who  rises  to  eminent  station, 
never  does  credit  to  it  by  his  manners.  Often  you 
would  not  know  the  American  ambassador  from  a 
duke.  This  is  often  merely  external ;  but  in  Red- 
clyffe,  having  delicate  original  traits  in  his  character, 
it  was  something  more ;  and,  we  are  bold  to  say, 
when  our  countrymen  are  developed,  or  any  one  class 
of  them,  as  they  ought  to  be,  they  will  show  finer 
traits  than  have  yet  been  seen.  We  have  more  deli- 
cate and  quicker  sensibilities  ;  nerves  more  easily  im- 
pr6ssed ;  and  these  are  surely  requisites  for  perfect 
manners ;  and,  moreover,  the  courtesy  that  proceeds 
on  the  ground  of  perfect  equality  is  better  than  that 
which  is  a  gracious  and  benignant  condescension, — 
as  is  the  case  with  the  manners  of  the  aristocracy  of 
England. 

An  American,  be  it  said,  seldom  turns  his  best 
side  outermost  abroad ;  and  an  observer,  who  has  had 
much  opportunity  of  seeing  the  figure  which  they 
make,  in  a  foreign  country,  does  not  so  much  wonder 
that  there  should  be  severe  criticism  on  their  man- 
ners as  a  people.  I  know  not  exactly  why,  but 
all  our  imputed  peculiarities  —  our  nasal  pronuncia- 
tion, our  ungraceful  idioms,  our  forthputtingness, 
our  uncouth  lack  of  courtesy  —  do  really  seem  to 
exist  on  a  foreign  shore ;  and  even,  perhaps,  to  be 
heightened  of  malice  prepense.  The  cold,  unbeliev- 
ing eye  of  Englishmen,  expectant  of  solecisms  in 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         209 

manners,  contributes  to  produce  the  result  which  it 
looks  for.  Then  the  feeling  of  hostility  and  defiance 
in  the  American  must  be  allowed  for;  and  partly, 
too,  the  real  existence  of  a  different  code  of  manners, 
founded  on,  and  arising  from,  different  institutions ; 
and  also  certain  national  peculiarities,  which  may 
be  intrinsically  as  good  as  English  peculiarities ;  but 
being  different,  and  yet  the  whole  result  being  just 
too  nearly  alike,  and,  moreover,  the  English  manners 
having  the  prestige  of  long  establishment,  and  fur- 
thermore our  own  manners  being  in  a  transition 
state  between  those  of  old  monarchies  and  what  is 
proper  to  a  new  republic,  —  it  necessarily  followed 
that  the  American,  though  really  a  man  of  refinement 
and  delicacy,  is  not  just  the  kind  of  gentleman  that  the 
English  can  fully  appreciate.  In  cases  where  they 
do  so,  their  standard  being  different  from  ours,  they 
do  not  always  select  for  their  approbation  the  kind 
of  man  or  manners  whom  we  should  judge  the  best ; 
we  are  perhaps  apt  to  be  a  little  too  fine,  a  little  too 
sedulously  polished,  and  of  course  too  conscious  of 
it,  —  a  deadly  social  crime,  certainly. 


210        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

To  return  from  this  long  discussion,  the  Warden 
took  kindly,  as  we  have  said,  to  Redclyffe,  and 
thought  him  a  miraculously  good  fellow,  to  have 
come  from  the  rude  American  republic.  Hitherto, 
in  the  little  time  that  he  had  been  in  England,  Red- 
clyffe  had  received  civil  and  even  kind  treatment 
from  the  English  with  whom  he  had  come  casually 
in  contact ;  but  still  —  perhaps  partly  from  our  Yan- 
kee narrowness  and  reserve  —  he  had  felt,  in  the 
closest  coming  together,  as  if  there  were  a  naked 
sword  between  the  Englishman  and  him,  as  between 
the  Arabian  prince  in  the  tale  and  the  princess 
whom  he  wedded;  he  felt  as  if  that  would  be  the 
case  even  if  he  should  love  an  Englishwoman ;  to 
such  a  distance,  into  such  an  attitude  of  self-defence, 
does  English  self-complacency  and  belief  in  Eng- 
land's superiority  throw  the  stranger.  In  fact,  in  a 
good-natured  way,  John  Bull  is  always  doubling 
his  fist  in  a  stranger's  face,  and  though  it  be  good- 
natured,  it  does  not  always  produce  the  most  ami- 
able feeling. 

The  worthy  Warden,  being  an  Englishman,  had 
doubtless  the  same  kind  of  feeling;  doubtless,  too, 
he  thought  ours  a  poor,  distracted  country,  perhaps 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         211 

prosperous  for  the  moment,  but  as  likely  as  not  to 
be  the  scene  of  anarchy  five  minutes  hence;  but 
being  of  so  genial  a  nature,  when  he  came  to  see 
the  amiableness  of  his  young  guest,  and  how  deeply 
he  was  impressed  with  England,  all  prejudice  died 
away,  and  he  loved  him  like  a  treasure  that  he  had 
found  for  himself,  and  valued  him  as  if  there  were 
something  of  his  own  in  him.  And  so  the  old  War- 
den's residence  had  never  before  been  so  cheery  as 
it  was  now;  his  bachelor  life  passed  the  more  pleas- 
antly with  this  quiet,  vivacious,  yet  not  trouble- 
somely  restless  spirit  beside  him, — this  eager,  almost 
childish  interest  in  everything  English,  and  yet  this 
capacity  to  take  independent  views  of  things,  and 
sometimes,  it  might  be,  to  throw  a  gleam  of  light 
even  on  things  appertaining  to  England.  And  so, 
the  better  they  came  to  know  one  another,  the  greater 
was  their  mutual  likingi 

"I  fear  I  am  getting  too  strong  to  burden  you 
much  longer,"  said  Kedclyffe,  this  morning.  "  I  have 
no  pretence  to  be. a  patient  now." 

"  Pooh  !  nonsense  ! "  ejaculated  the  Warden.  "  It 
will  not  be  safe  to  leave  you  to  yourself  for  at  least 
a  month  to  come.  And  I  have  half  a  dozen  excur- 
sions in  a  neighborhood  of  twenty  miles,  in  which  I 
mean  to  show  you  what  old  England  is,  in  a  way 
that  you  would  never  find  out  for  yourself.  Do  not 
speak  of  going.  This  day,  if  you  find  yourself  strong 
enough,  you  shall  go  and  look  at  an  old  village 
church." 


212        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Eedclyffe. 

They  went,  accordingly,  walking  slowly,  in  con- 
sequence of  EedclyfTe's  yet  imperfect  strength,  along 
the  highroad,  which  was  overshadowed  with  elms, 
that  grew  in  beautiful  shape  and  luxuriance  in  that 
part  of  England,  not  with  the  slender,  drooping,  pic- 
turesque grace  of  a  New  England  elm,  but  more  lux- 
uriant, fuller  of  leaves,  sturdier  in  limb.  It  was  a 
day  which  the  Warden  called  fine,  and  which  Eed- 
ctyffe,  at  home,  would  have  thought  to  bode  rain ; 
though  here  he  had  learned  that  such  weather  might 
continue  for  weeks  together,  with  only  a  few  rain- 
drops all  the  time.  The  road  was  in  the  finest  con- 
dition, hard  and  dry. 

They  had  not  long  emerged  from  the  gateway  of 
the  Hospital,  —  at  the  venerable  front  and  gables  of 
which  Eedclyffe  turned  to  look  with  a  feeling  as  if  it 
were  his  home,  —  when  they  heard  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
behind  them,  and  a  gentleman  on  horseback  rode  by, 
paying  a  courteous  salute  to  the  Warden  as  he  passed. 
A  groom  in  livery  followed  at  a  little  distance,  and 
both  rode  roundly  towards  the  village,  whither  the 
Warden  and  his  friend  were  going. 

"Did  you  observe  that  man?"  asked  the  Warden. 

"  Yes,"  said  Eedclyffe.     "  Is  he  an  Englishman  ? " 

"  That  is  a  pertinent  question,"  replied  the  War- 
den, "  but  I  scarcely  know  how  to  answer  it." 

In  truth,  Eedclyffe's  question  had  been  suggested 
by  the  appearance  of  the  mounted  gentleman,  who 
was  a  dark,  thin  man,  with  black  hair,  and  a  black 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         213 

moustache  and  pointed  beard  setting  off  his  sallow 
face,  in  which  the  eyes  had  a  certain  pointed  steeli- 
ness,  which  did  not  look  English,  —  whose  eyes,  me- 
thinks,  are  usually  not  so  hard  as  those  of  Americans 
or  foreigners.  Redclyffe,  somehow  or  other,  had  fan- 
cied that  these  not  very  pleasant  eyes  had  been  fixed 
in  a  marked  way  on  himself,  a  stranger,  while  at  the 
same  time  his  salute  was  evidently  directed  towards 
the  Warden. 

"An  Englishman, —  why,  no,"  continued  the  latter. 
"  If  you  observe,  he  does  not  even  sit  his  horse  like 
an  Englishman,  but  in  that  absurd,  stiff  continental 
way,  as  if  a  poker  should  get  on  horseback.  Neither 
has  he  an  English  face,  English  manners,  nor  Eng- 
lish religion,  nor  an  English  heart;  nor,  to  sum  up 
the  whole,  had  he  English  birth.  Nevertheless,  as 
fate  would  have  it,  he  is  the  inheritor  of  a  good  old 
English  name,  a  fine  patrimonial  estate,  and  a  very 
probable  claim  to  an  old  English  title.  This  is  Lord 
Braithwaite  of  Braithwaite  Hall,  who  if  he  can  make 
his  case  good  (and  they  say  there  is  good  prospect  of 
it)  will  soon  be  Lord  Hiuchbrooke." 

"  I  hardly  know  why,  but  I  should  be  sorry  for  it," 
said  Bedclyffe.  "He  certainly  is  not  English;  and 
I  have  an  odd  sort  of  sympathy,  which  makes  me 
unwilling  that  English  honors  should  be  enjoyed  by 
foreigners.  This,  then,  is  the  gentleman  of  Italian 
birth  whom  you  have  mentioned  to  me,  and  of  whom 
there  is  a  slight  mention  in  the  County  History." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Warden.     "  There  have  been  three 


214        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

descents  of  this  man's  branch  in  Italy,  and  only  one 
English  mother  in  all  that  time.  Positively,  I  do  not 
see  an  English  trait  in  his  face,  and  as  little  in  his 
manner.  His  civility  is  Italian,  such  as  oftentimes, 
among  his  countrymen,  has  offered  a  cup  of  poison  to 
a  guest,  or  insinuated  the  stab  of  a  stiletto  into  his 
heart." 

"You  are  particularly  bitter  against  this  poor 
man,"  said  Eedclyffe,  laughing  at  the  Warden's  vehe- 
mence. "His  appearance — and  yet  he  is  a  handsome 
man  —  is  certainly  not  prepossessing;  but  unless  it 
be  countersigned  by  something  in  his  actual  life,  I 
should  hardly  think  it  worth  while  to  condemn  him 
utterly." 

"  Well,  well ;  you  can  forgive  a  little  English  preju- 
dice," said  the  Warden,  a  little  ashamed.  "  But,  in 
good  earnest,  the  man  has  few  or  no  good  traits,  takes 
no  interest  in  the  country,  dislikes  our  sky,  our  earth, 
our  people,  is  close  and  inhospitable,  a  hard  landlord, 
and  whatever  may  be  his  good  qualities,  they  are  not 
such  as  nourish  in  this  soil  and  climate,  or  can  be 
appreciated  here."  1 

"  Has  he  children  ? "  asked  Eedclyffe. 

"  They  say  so,  —  a  family  by  an  Italian  wife,  whom 
some,  on  the  other  hand,  pronounce  to  be  no  wife  at 
all.  His  son  is  at  a  Catholic  college  in  France  ;  his 
daughter  in  a  convent  there." 

In  talk  like  this  they  were  drawing  near  the 
little  rustic  village  of  Braithwaite,  and  saw,  above  a 
cloud  of  foliage,  the  small,  low,  battlemented  tower, 


DOCTOR  GRIMSHA  WE'S  SECRET.        215 

the  gray  stones  of  which  had  probably  been  laid  a 
little  after  the  Norman  conquest.  Approaching  near- 
er, they  passed  a  thatched  cottage  or  two,  very  plain 
and  simple  edifices,  though  interesting  to  Kedclyffe 
from  their  antique  aspect,  which  denoted  that  they 
were  probably  older  than  the  settlement  of  his  own 
country,  and  might  very  likely  have  nursed  children 
who  had  gone,  more  than  two  centuries  ago,  to  found 
the  commonwealth  of  which  he  was  a  citizen.  If  you 
considered  them  in  one  way,  prosaically,  they  were 
ugly  enough ;  but  then  there  were  the  old  latticed 
windows,  and  there  the  thatch,  which  was  verdant 
with  leek,  and  strange  weeds,  possessing  a  whole  bo- 
tanical growth.  And  birds  flew  in  and  out,  as  if  they 
had  their  homes  there.  Then  came  a  row  of  similar 
cottages,  all  joined  on  together,  and  each  with  a  little 
garden  before  it  divided  from  its  neighbors  by  a  hedge, 
now  in  full  verdure.  Kedclyffe  was  glad  to  see  some 
symptoms  of  natural  love  of  beauty  here,  for  there 
were  plants  of  box,  cut  into  queer  shapes  of  birds, 
peacocks,  etc.,  as  if  year  after  year  had  been  spent  in 
bringing  these  vegetable  sculptures  to  perfection.  In 
one  of  the  gardens,  moreover,  the  ingenious  inhabitant 
had  spent  his  leisure  in  building  grotto-work,  of  which 
the  English  are  rather  ludicrously  fond,  on  their  little 
bits  of  lawn,  and  in  building  a  miniature  castle  of 
oyster-shells,  where  were  seen  turrets,  ramparts,  a 
frowning  arched  gateway,  and  miniature  cannon  look- 
ing from  the  embrasures.  A  pleasanter  and  better 
adornment  were  the  homely  household  flowers,  and  a 


216        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

pleasant  sound,  too,  was  the  hum  of  bees,  who  had 
their  home  in  several  beehives,  and  were  making  their 
honey  among  the  flowers  of  the  garden,  or  come  from 
afar,  buzzing  dreamily  through  the  air,  laden  with 
honey  that  they  had  found  elsewhere.  Fruit  trees 
stood  erect,  or,  in  some  instances,  were  flattened 
out  against  the  walls  of  cottages,  looking  somewhat 
like  hawks  nailed  in  terrorem  against  a  barn  door. 
The  male  members  of  this  little  community  were 
probably  afield,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two 
half-torpid  great-grandsires,  who  [were]  moving  rheu- 
matically  about  the  gardens,  and  some  children  not 
yet  in  breeches,  who  stared  with  stolid  eyes  at  the 
passers-by;  but  the  good  dames  were  busy  within 
doors,  where  Redclyfie  had  glimpses  of  their  inte- 
rior with  its  pavement  of  stone  flags.  Altogether 
it  seemed  a  comfortable  settlement  enough. 

"Do  you  see  that  child  yonder,"  observed  the 
Warden,  "  creeping  away  from  the  door,  and  dis- 
playing a  vista  of  his  petticoats  as  he  does  so  ? 
That  sturdy  boy  is  the  lineal  heir  of  one  of  the 
oldest  families  in  this  part  of  England,  —  though 
now  decayed  and  fallen,  as  you  may  judge.  So, 
you  see,  with  all  our  contrivances  to  keep  up  an 
aristocracy,  there  still  is  change  forever  going  on." 

"  There  is  something  riot  agreeable,  and  something 
otherwise,  in  the  thought,"  replied  Redclyfle.  "  What 
is  the  name  of  the  old  family,  whose  representative  is 
in  such  a  case  ?  " 

"  Moseby,"  said  the  Warden.     "  Their  family  resi- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         217 

dence  stood  within  three  miles  of  Braithwaite  Hall, 
but  was  taken  down  in  the  last  century,  and  its  place 
supplied  by  a  grand  show-place,  built  by  a  Birming- 
ham manufacturer,  who  also  originated  here." 

They  kept  onward  from  this  outskirt  of  the  village, 
and  soon,  passing  over  a  little  rising  ground,  and  de- 
scending now  into  a  hollow  came  to  the  new  portion 
of  it,  clustered  around  its  gray  Norman  church,  one 
side  of  the  tower  of  which  was  covered  with  ivy,  that 
was  carefully  kept,  the  Warden  said,  from  climbing 
to  the  battlements,  on  account  of  some  old  prophecy 
that  foretold  that  the  tower  would  fall,  if  ever  the  ivy 
mantled  over  its  top.  Certainly,  however,  there 
seemed  little  likelihood  that  the  square,  low  mass 
would  fall,  unless  by  external  violence,  in  less  than 
as  many  ages  as  it  had  already  stood. 

Eedclyffe  looked  at  the  old  tower  and  little  ad- 
joining edifice  with  an  interest  that  attached  itself 
to  every  separate,  moss-grown  stone;  but  the  War- 
den, like  most  Englishmen,  was  at  once  amazed  and 
wearied  with  the  American's  enthusiasm  for  this  spot, 
which  to  him  was  uninteresting  for  the  very  reason 
that  made  it  most  interesting  to  Eedclyffe,  because  it 
had  stood  there  such  a  weary  while.  It  was  too  com- 
mon an  object  to  excite  in  his  mind,  as  it  did  in 
Redclyffe's,  visions  of  the  long  ago  time  when  it  was 
founded,  when  mass  was  first  said  there,  and  the 
glimmer  of  torches  at  the  altar  was  seen  through  the 
vista  of  that  broad-browed  porch ;  and  of  all  the  pro- 
cession of  villagers  that  had  since  gone  in  and  come 


218        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

out  during  nine  hundred  years,  in  their  varying  cos- 
tume and  fashion,  but  yet  —  and  this  was  the  strong- 
est and  most  thrilling  part  of  the  idea  —  all,  the  very 
oldest  of  them,  bearing  a  resemblance  of  feature,  the 
kindred,  the  family  likeness,  to  those  who  died  yes- 
terday, —  to  those  who  still  went  thither  to  worship ; 
and  that  all  the  grassy  and  half-obliterated  graves 
around  had  held  those  who  bore  the  same  traits. 

In  front  of  the  church  was  a  little  green,  on  which 
stood  a  very  ancient  yew  tree,2  all  the  heart  of  which 
seemed  to  have  been  eaten  away  by  time,  so  that  a 
man  could  now  creep  into  the  trunk,  through  a  wide 
opening,  and,  looking  upward,  see  another  opening  to 
the  sky. 

"  That  tree,"  observed  the  Warden,  "  is  well  worth 
the  notice  of  such  an  enthusiastic  lover  of  old  things ; 
though  I  suppose  aged  trees  may  be  the  one  antiquity 
that  you  do  not  value,  having  them  by  myriads  in 
your  primeval  forests.  But  then  the  interest  of  this 
tree  consists  greatly  in  what  your  trees  have  not, — 
in  its  long  connection  with  men  and  the  doings  of 
men.  Some  of  its  companions  were  made  into  bows 
for  Harold's  archers.  This  tree  is  of  unreckonable 
antiquity ;  so  old,  that  in  a  record  of  the  time  of 
Edward  IV.  it  is  styled  the  yew  tree  of  Braith- 
waite  Green.  That  carries  it  back  to  Norman  times, 
truly.  It  was  in  comparatively  modern  times  when 
it  served  as  a  gallows  for  one  of  James  II.'s  blood- 
thirsty judges  to  hang  his  victims  on  after  Moii- 
mouth's  rebellion." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         219 

On  one  side  of  this  yew  was  a  certain  structure 
which  Kedclyffe  did  not  recognize  as  anything  that 
he  had  before  seen,  but  soon  guessed  its  purpose ; 
though,  from  appearances,  it  seemed  to  have  been 
very  long  since  it  had  served  that  purpose.  It  was  a 
ponderous  old  oaken  framework,  six  or  seven  feet 
high,  so  contrived  that  a  heavy  cross-piece  shut  down 
over  another,  leaving  two  round  holes;  in  short,  it 
was  a  pair  of  stocks,  in  which,  I  suppose,  hundreds 
of  vagrants  and  petty  criminals  had  sat  of  old,  but 
which  now  appeared  to  be  merely  a  matter  of 
curiosity. 

"This  excellent  old  machine,"  said  the  Warden, 
"  had  been  lying  in  a  rubbish  chamber  of  the  church 
tower  for  at  least  a  century ;  when  the  clerk,  who  is 
a  little  of  an  antiquarian,  unearthed  it,  and  I  advised 
him  to  set  it  here,  where  it  used  to  stand;  —  not 
with  any  idea  of  its  being  used  (though  there  is  as 
much  need  of  it  now  as  ever),  but  that  the  present 
age  may  see  what  comforts  it  has  lost." 

They  sat  down  a  few  moments  on  the  circular  seat, 
and  looked  at  the  pretty  scene  of  this  quiet  little  vil- 
lage, clustered  round  the  old  church  as  a  centre ;  a 
collection  of  houses,  mostly  thatched,  though  there 
were  one  or  two,  with  rather  more  pretension,  that 
had  roofs  of  red  tiles.  Some  of  them  were  stone  cot- 
tages, whitewashed,  but  the  larger  edifices  had  timber 
frames,  filled  in  with  brick  and  plaster,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  renewed  in  patches,  and  to  be  a  frailer 
and  less  durable  material  than  the  old  oak  of  their 


220        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWKS  SECRET. 

skeletons.  They  were  gabled,  with  lattice  windows, 
and  picturesquely  set  off  with  projecting  stones,  and 
many  little  patchwork  additions,  such  as,  in  the 
course  of  generations,  the  inhabitants  had  found 
themselves  to  need.  There  was  not  much  commerce, 
apparently,  in  this  little  village,  there  seeming  to  be 
only  one  shop,  with  some  gingerbread,  penny  whistles, 
ballads,  and  such  matters,  displayed  in  the  window ; 
and  there,  too,  across  the  little  green,  opposite  the 
church,  was  the  village  alehouse,  with  its  bench 
under  the  low  projecting  eaves,  with  a  Teniers  scene 
of  two  wayfaring  yeomen  drinking  a  pot  of  beer  and 
smoking  their  pipes. 

With  Kedclyffe's  Yankee  feelings,  there  was  some- 
thing sad  to  think  how  the  generations  had  succeeded 
one  another,  over  and  over,  in  innumerable  succes- 
sion, in  this  little  spot,  being  born  here,  living,  dying, 
lying  down  among  their  fathers'  dust,  and  forthwith 
getting  up  again,  as  it  were,  and  recommencing  the 
same  meaningless  round,  and  really  bringing  nothing 
to  pass ;  for  probably  the  generation  of  to-day,  in  so 
secluded  and  motionless  a  place  as  this,  had  few  or 
no  ideas  in  advance  of  their  ancestors  of  five  centuries 
ago.  It  seems  not  worth  while  that  more  than  one 
generation  of  them  should  have  existed.  Even  in 
dress,  with  their  smock  frocks  and  breeches,  they 
were  just  like  their  fathers.  The  stirring  blood  of  the 
new  land, — where  no  man  dwells  in  his  father's  house, 

—  where  no  man  thinks  of  dying  in  his  birthplace, 

—  awoke  within  him,  and  revolted  at  the  thought; 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        221 

and,  as  connected  with  it,  revolted  at  all  the  heredi- 
tary pretensions  which,  since  his  stay  here,  had  exer- 
cised such  an  influence  over  the  fanciful  part  of  his 
nature.  In  another  mood,  the  village  might  have 
seemed  a  picture  of  rural  peace,  which  it  would  have 
been  worth  while  to  give  up  ambition  to  enjoy  ;  now, 
as  his  warmer  impulse  stirred,  it  was  a  weariness  to 
think  of.  The  new  American  was  stronger  in  him 
than  the  hereditary  Englishman. 

"  I  should  go  mad  of  it ! "  exclaimed  he  aloud. 

He  started  up  impulsively,  to  the  amazement  of 
his  companion,  who  of  course  could  not  comprehend 
what  seemed  so  to  have  stung  his  American  friend. 
As  they  passed  the  tree,  on- the  other  side  of  its  huge 
trunk,  they  saw  a  young  woman,  sitting  on  that  side 
of  it,  and  sketching,  apparently,  the  church  tower, 
with  the  old  Elizabethan  vicarage  that  stood  near  it, 
with  a  gate  opening  into  the  churchyard,  and  much 
embowered  and  ivy-hung. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Cheltenham,"  said  the  Warden.  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  have  taken  the  old  church  in 
hand,  for  it  is  one  of  the  prettiest  rustic  churches  in 
England,  and  as  well  worthy  as  any  to  be  engraved 
on  a  sheet  of  note-paper  or  put  into  a  portfolio. 
Will  you  let  my  friend  and  rne  see  your  sketch  ? " 

The  Warden  had  made  his  request  with  rather 
more  freedom  than  perhaps  he  would  to  a  lady  whom 
he  considered  on  a  level  with  himself,  though  with 
perfect  respect,  that  being  considered ;  and  Redelyffe, 
looking  at  the  person,  saw  that  it  was  the  same  of 


222        DOCTOR  GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

whose  face  he  had  had  a  glimpse  in  the  looking-glass, 
in  the  old  palmer's  chamber. 

"  No,  Doctor  Hammond,"  said  the  young  lady,  with 
a  respectful  sort  of  frankness,  "  you  must  excuse  me. 
I  am  no  good  artist,  and  am  but  jotting  down  the  old 
church  because  I  like  it." 

"  Well,  well,  as  you  please,"  said  the  Warden ;  and 
whispered  aside  to  Kedclyffe,  "  A  girl's  sketchbook  is 
seldom  worth  looking  at.  But  now,  Miss  Chelten- 
ham, I  am  about  to  give  my  American  friend  here  a 
lecture  on  gargoyles,  and  other  peculiarities  of  sacred 
Gothic  architecture ;  and  if  you  will  honor  me  with 
your  attention,  I  should  be  glad  to  find  my  audience 
increased  by  one." 

So  the  young  lady  arose,  and  Kedclyffe,  consider- 
ing the  Warden's  allusion  to  him  as  a  sort  of  partial 
introduction,  bowed  to  her,  and  she  responded  with  a 
cold,  reserved,  yet  not  unpleasant  sort  of  courtesy. 
They  went  towards  the  church  porch,  and,  looking 
in  at  the  old  stone  bench  on  each  side  of  the  interior, 
the  Warden  showed  them  the  hacks  of  the  swords  of 
the  Koundheads,  when  they  took  it  by  storm.  Ked- 
clyffe, mindful  of  the  old  graveyard  on  the  edge  of 
which  he  had  spent  his  childhood,  began  to  look  at 
this  far  more  antique  receptacle,  expecting  to  find 
there  many  ancient  tombstones,  perhaps  of  contem- 
poraries or  predecessors  of  the  founders  of  his  coun- 
try. In  this,  however,  he  was  disappointed,  at  least 
in  a  great  measure;  for  the  persons  buried  in  the 
churchyard  were  probably,  for  the  most  part,  of  a 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWKS  SECRET.         223 

humble  rank  in  life,  such  as  were  not  so  ambitious  as 
to  desire  a  monument  of  any  kind,  but  were  content 
to  let  their  low  earth- mounds  subside  into  the  level, 
where  their  memory  had  waxed  so  faint  that  none 
among  the  survivors  could  point  out  the  spot,  or 
cared  any  longer  about  knowing  it;  while  in  other 
cases,  where  a  monument  of  red  freestone,  or  even  of 
hewn  granite,  had  been  erected,  the  English  climate 
had  forthwith  set  to  work  to  gnaw  away  the  inscrip- 
tions;  so  that  in  fifty  years  —  in  a  time  that  would 
have  left  an  American  tombstone  as  fresh  as  if  just 
cut — it  was  quite  impossible  to  make  out  the  record. 
Their  superiors,  meanwhile,  were  sleeping  less  envi- 
ably in  dismal  mouldy  and  dusty  vaults,  instead  of 
under  the  daisies.  Thus  Eedclyffe  really  found  less 
antiquity  here,  than  in  the  graveyard  which  might 
almost  be  called  his  natal  spot. 

When  he  said  something  to  this  effect,  the  Warden 
nodded. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  and,  in  truth,  we  have  not  much 
need  of  inscriptions  for  these  poor  people.  All  good 
families  —  every  one  almost,  with  any  pretensions  to 
respectable  station,  has  his  family  or  individual  recog- 
nition within  the  church,  or  upon  its  walls ;  or  some 
of  them  you  see  on  tombs  on  the  outside.  As  for 
our  poorer  friends  here,  they  are  content,  as  they  may 
well  be,  to  swell  and  subside,  like  little  billows  of 
mortality,  here  on  the  outside." 

"  And  for  my  part,"  said  Redclyffe,  "  if  there  were 
anything  particularly  desirable  on  either  side,  I 


224        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

should  like  best  to  sleep  under  this  lovely  green  turf, 
with  the  daisies  strewn  over  me  by  Nature  herself, 
and  whatever  other  homely  flowers  any  friend  might 
choose  to  add." 

"  And,  Doctor  Hammond,"  said  the  young  woman, 
"  we  see  by  this  gravestone  that  sometimes  a  person 
of  humble  rank  may  happen  to  be  commemorated, 
and  that  Nature  —  in  this  instance  at  least  —  seems 
to  take  especial  pains  and  pleasure  to  preserve  the 
record." 

She  indicated  a  flat  gravestone,  near  the  porch, 
which  time  had  indeed  beautified  in  a  singular  way, 
for  there  was  cut  deep  into  it  a  name  and  date,  in 
old  English  characters,  very  deep  it  must  originally 
have  been;  and  as  if  in  despair  of  obliterating  it, 
Time  had  taken  the  kindlier  method  of  filling  up  the 
letters  with  moss;  so  that  now,  high  embossed  in 
loveliest  green,  was  seen  the  name  "Eichard  Ogle- 
thorpe  1613";  —  green,  and  flourishing,  and  beauti- 
ful, like  the  memory  of  a  good  man.  The  inscription 
originally  seemed  to  have  contained  some  twenty 
lines,  which  might  have  been  poetry,  or  perhaps  a 
prose  eulogy,  or  perhaps  the  simple  record  of  the 
buried  person's  life ;  but  all  this,  having  been  done 
in  fainter  and  smaller  letters,  was  now  so  far  worn 
away  as  to  be  illegible ;  nor  had  they  ever  been  deep 
enough  to  be  made  living  in  moss,  like  the  rest  of 
the  inscription. 

"How  tantalizing,"  remarked  Eedclyffe,  "to  see 
the  verdant  shine  of  this  name,  impressed  upon  us  as 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        225 

something  remarkable  —  and  nothing  else.  I  cannot 
but  think  that  there  must  be  something  worth  re- 
membering about  a  man  thus  distinguished.  When 
two  hundred  years  have  taken  all  these  natural  pains 
to  illustrate  and  emblazon  'Kichard  Oglethorpe  1613.' 
Ha!  I  surely  recollect  that  name.  It  haunts  me 
somehow,  as  if  it  had  been  familiar  of  old." 

"  And  me,"  said  the  young  lady. 

"It  was  an  old  name,  hereabouts,"  observed  the 
Warden,  "but  has  been  long  extinct,  —  a  cottage 
name,  not  a  gentleman's.  I  doubt  not  that  Ogle- 
thorpes  sleep  in  many  of  these  undistinguished 
graves." 

Eedclyffe  did  not  much  attend  to  what  his  friend 
said,  his  attention  being  attracted  to  the  tone  —  to 
something  in  the  tone  of  the  young  lady,  and  also  to 
her  coincidence  in  his  remark  that  the  name  appealed 
to  some  early  recollection.  He  had  been  taxing  his 
memory,  to  tell  him  when  and  how  the  name  had 
become  familiar  to  him ;  and  he  now  remembered 
that  it  had  occurred  in  the  old  Doctor's  story  of  the 
Bloody  Footstep,  told  to  him  and  Elsie,  so  long  ago.3 
To  him  and  Elsie  !  It  struck  him  —  what  if  it  were 
possible  ?  —  but  he  knew  it  was  not  —  that  the  young 
lady  had  a  remembrance  also  of  the  fact,  and  that 
she,  after  so  many  years,  were  mingling  her  thoughts 
with  his.  As  this  fancy  recurred  to  him,  he  endeav- 
ored to  get  a  glimpse  of  her  face,  and  while  he  did  so 
she  turned  it  upon  him.  It  was  a  quick,  sensitive 
face,  that  did  not  seem  altogether  English ;  he  would 

15 


226        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

rather  have  imagined  it  American ;  but  at  all  events 
he  could  not  recognize  it  as  one  that  he  had  seen 
before,  and  a  thousand  fantasies  died  within  him  as, 
in  his  momentary  glance,  he  took  in  the  volume  of 
its  contour. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.        227 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

AFTER  the  two  friends  had  parted  from  the  young 
lady,  they  passed  through  the  village,  and  entered  the 
park  gate  of  Braithwaite  Hall,  pursuing  a  winding 
road  through  its  beautiful  scenery,  which  realized  all 
that  Redclyffe  had  read  or  dreamed  about  the  perfect 
beauty  of  these  sylvan  creations,  with  the  clumps  of 
trees,  or  sylvan  oaks,  picturesquely  disposed.  To 
heighten  the  charm,  they  saw  a  herd  of  deer  reposing, 
who,  on  their  appearance,  rose  from  their  recumbent 
position,  and  began  to  gaze  warily  at  the  strangers ; 
then,  tossing  their  horns,  they  set  off  on  a  stampede, 
but  only  swept  round,  and  settled  down  not  far  from 
where  they  were.  Redclyffe  looked  with  great  inter- 
est at  these  deer,  who  were  at  once  wild  and  civil- 
ized ;  retaining  a  kind  of  free  forest  citizenship,  while 
yet  they  were  in  some  sense  subject  to  man.  It 
seemed  as  if  they  were  a  link  between  wild  nature 
and  tame ;  as  if  they  could  look  back,  in  their  long 
recollections,  through  a  vista,  into  the  times  when 
England's  forests  were  as  wild  as  those  of  America, 
though  now  they  were  but  a  degree  more  removed 
from  domesticity  than  cattle,  and  took  their  food  in 
winter  from  the  hand  of  man,  and  in  summer  reposed 
upon  his  lawns.  This  seemed  the  last  touch  of  that 


228        DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

delightful  conquered  and  regulated  wildness,  which 
English  art  has  laid  upon  the  whole  growth  of  Eng- 
lish nature,  animal  or  vegetable. 

"  There  is  nothing  really  wild  in  your  whole  is- 
land," he  observed  to  the  Warden.  "  I  have  a  sen- 
sation as  if  somebody  knew,  and  had  cultivated  and 
fostered,  and  set  out  in  its  proper  place,  every  tree 
that  grows ;  as  if  somebody  had  patted  the  heads  of 
your  wildest  animals  and  played  with  them.  It  is 
very  delightful  to  me,  for  the  present;  and  yet,  I 
think,  in  the  course  of  time,  I  should  feel  the  need  for 
something  genuine,  as  it  were,  —  something  that  had 
not  the  touch  and  breath  of  man  upon  it.  I  suppose 
even  your  skies  are  modified  by  the  modes  of  human 
life  that  are  going  on  beneath  it.  London  skies,  of 
course,  are  so ;  but  the  breath  of  a  great  people,  to 
say  nothing  of  its  furnace  vapors  and  hearth- smokes, 
make  the  sky  other  than  it  was  a  thousand  years 
ago." 

"  I  believe  we  English  have  a  feeling  like  this  oc- 
casionally," replied  the  Warden,  "  and  it  is  from  that, 
partly,  that  we  must  account  for  our  adventurousness 
into  other  regions,  especially  for  our  interest  in  what 
is  wild  and  new.  In  your  own  forests,  now,  and 
prairies,  I  fancy  we  find  a  charm  that  Americans  do 
not.  In  the  sea,  too,  and  therefore  we  are  yachters. 
For  my  part,  however,  I  have  grown  to  like  Nature 
a  little  smoothed  down,  and  enriched ;  less  gaunt  and 
wolfish  than  she  would  be  if  left  to  herself." 

"  Yes ;    I   feel   that   charm   too,"    said   Redclyffe. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        229 

"But  yet  life  would  be  slow  and  heavy,  methinks, 
to  see  nothing  but  English  parks." 

Continuing  their  course  through  the  noble  clumps 
of  oaks,  they  by  and  by  had  a  vista  of  the  distant 
hall  itself.  It  was  one  of  the  old  English  timber  and 
plaster  houses,  many  of  which  are  of  unknown  anti- 
quity ;  as  was  the  case  with  a  portion  of  this  house, 
although  other  portions  had  been  renewed,  repaired, 
or  added,  within  a  century.  It  had,  originally,  the 
Warden  said,  stood  all  round  an  enclosed  courtyard, 
like  the  great  houses  of  the  Continent ;  but  now  one 
side  of  the  quadrangle  had  long  been  removed,  and 
there  was  only  a  front,  with  two  wings ;  the  beams  of 
old  oak  being  picked  out  with  black,  and  three  or 
four  gables  in  a  line  forming  the  front,  while  the 
wings  seemed  to  be  stone.  It  was  the  timber  portion 
that  was  most  ancient.  A  clock  was  on  the  midmost 
gable,  and  pointed  now  towards  one  o'clock.  The 
whole  scene  impressed  Kedclyffe,  not  as  striking,  but 
as  an  abode  of  ancient  peace,  where  generation  after 
generation  of  the  same  family  had  lived,  each  making 
the  most  of  life,  because  the  life  of  each  successive 
dweller  there  was  eked  out  with  the  lives  of  all  who 
had  hitherto  lived  there,  arid  had  in  it  equally  those 
lives  which  were  to  come  afterwards ;  so  that  there 
was  a  rare  and  successful  contrivance  for  giving 
length,  fulness,  body,  substance,  to  this  thin  and 
frail  matter  of  human  life.  And,  as  life  was  so  rich 
in  comprehensiveness,  the  dwellers  there  made  the 
most  of  it  for  the  present  and  future,  each  generation 


230        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

contriving  what  it  could  to  add  to  the  cosiness,  the 
comfortableness,  the  grave,  solid  respectability,  the 
sylvan  beauty,  of  the  house  with  which  they  seemed 
to  be  connected  both  before  and  after  death.  The 
family  had  its  home  there ;  not  merely  the  individual. 
Ancient  shapes,  that  had  apparently  gone  to  the 
family  tomb,  had  yet  a  right  by  family  hearth  and  in 
family  hall;  nor  did  they  come  thither  cold  and 
shivering,  and  diffusing  dim  ghostly  terrors,  and  re- 
pulsive shrinkings,  and  death  in  life ;  but  in  warm, 
genial  attributes,  making  this  life  now  passing  more 
dense  as  it  were,  by  adding  all  the  substance  of  their 
own  to  it.  Kedclyffe  could  not  compare  this  abode, 
and  the  feelings  that  it  aroused,  to  the  houses  of  his 
own  country ;  poor  tents  of  a  day,  inns  of  a  night, 
where  nothing  was  certain,  save  that  the  family  of 
him  who  built  it  would  not  dwell  here,  even  if  he 
himself  should  have  the  bliss  to  die  under  the  roof, 
which,  with  absurdest  anticipations,  he  had  built  for 
his  posterity.  Posterity!  An  American  can  have 
none. 

"  All  this  sort  of  thing  is  beautiful ;  the  family  in- 
stitution was  beautiful  in  its  day,"  ejaculated  he, 
aloud,  to  himself,  not  to  his  companion ;  "  but  it  is  a 
thing  of  the  past.  It  is  dying  out  in  England ;  and 
as  for  ourselves,  we  never  had  it.  Something  better 
will  come  up;  but  as  for  this,  it  is  past." 

"  That  is  a  sad  thing  to  say,"  observed  the  Warden, 
by  no  means  comprehending  what  was  passing  in  his 
friend's  mind.  "  But  if  you  wish  to  view  the  interior 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        231 

of  the  Hall,  we  will  go  thither ;  for,  harshly  as  I  have 
spoken  of  the  owner,  I  suppose  he  has  English  feeling 
enough  to  give  us  lunch  and  show  us  the  old  house 
of  his  forefathers." 

"  Not  at  present,  if  you  please,"  replied  Kedclyffe. 
"I  am  afraid  of  destroying  my  delightful  visionary 
idea  of  the  house  by  coming  too  near  it.  Before  I 
leave  this  part  of  the  country,  I  should  be  glad  to 
ramble  over  the  whole  of  it,  but  not  just  now." 

While  Redclyffe  was  still  enjoying  the  frank  hos- 
pitality of  his  new  friend,  a  rather  marked  event 
occurred  in  his  life ;  yet  not  so  important  in  reality 
as  it  seemed  to  his  English  friend. 

A  large  letter  was  delivered  to  him,  bearing  the 
official  seal  of  the  United  States,  and  the  indorse- 
ment of  the  State  Department;  a  very  important- 
looking  document,  which  could  not  but  add  to  the 
importance  of  the  recipient  in  the  eyes  of  any  Eng- 
lishman, accustomed  as  they  are  to  bow  down  before 
any  seal  of  government.  Kedclyffe  opened  it  rather 
coolly,  being  rather  loath  to  renew  any  of  his  political 
remembrances,  now  that  he  was  in  peace ;  or  to  think 
of  the  turmoil  of  modern  and  democratic  politics,  here 
in  this  quietude  of  gone-by  ages  and  customs.  The 
contents,  however,  took  him  by  surprise  ;  nor  did  he 
know  whether  to  be  pleased  or  not. 

The  official  package,  in  short,  contained  an  an- 
nouncement that  he  had  been  appointed  by  the  Pres- 
ident, by  and  with  the  advice  of  the  Senate,  to  one  of 
the  Continental  missions,  usually  esteemed  an  object 


232        DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

of  considerable  ambition  to  any  young  man  in  poli- 
tics ;  so  that,  if  consistent  with  his  own  pleasure,  he 
was  now  one  of  the  Diplomatic  Corps,  a  Minister, 
and  representative  of  his  country.  On  first  consid- 
ering the  matter,  Redclyffe  was  inclined  to  doubt 
whether  this  honor  had  been  obtained  for  him  al- 
together by  friendly  aid,  though  it  did  happen  to 
have  much  in  it  that  might  suit  his  half-formed  pur- 
pose of  remaining  long  abroad;  but  with  an  eye 
already  rendered  somewhat  oblique  by  political  prac- 
tice, he  suspected  that  a  political  rival  —  a  rival, 
though  of  his  own  party  —  had  been  exerting  himself 
to  provide  an  inducement  for  Redclyffe  to  leave  the 
local  field  to  him;  while  he  himself  should  take 
advantage  of  the  vacant  field,  and  his  rival  be 
thus  insidiously,  though  honorably,  laid  on  the  shelf, 
whence  if  he  should  try  to  remove  himself  a  few 
years  hence  the  shifting  influences  of  American  poli- 
tics would  be  likely  enough  to  thwart  him ;  so  that^ 
for  the  sake  of  being  a  few  years  nominally  some- 
body, he  might  in  fine  come  back  to  his  own  country 
and  find  himself  permanently  nobady.  But  Redclyffe 
had  already  sufficiently  begun  to  suspect  that  he 
lacked  some  qualities  that  a  politician  ought  to  have, 
and  without  which  a  political  life,  whether  successful 
or  otherwise,  is  sure  to  be  a  most  irksome  one: 
some  qualities  he  lacked,  others  he  had,  both  almost 
equally  an  obstacle.  When  he  communicated  the 
offer,  therefore,  to  his  friend,  the  Warden,  it  was  with 
the  remark  that  he  believed  he  should  accept  it. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         233 

"  Accept  it  ? "  cried  the  Warden,  opening  his  eyes. 
"  I  should  think  so,  indeed !  Why,  it  puts  you  above 
the  level  of  the  highest  nobility  of  the  Court  to  which 
you  are  accredited;  simple  republican  as  you  are, 
it  gives  you  rank  with  the  old  blood  and  birth  of 
Europe.  Accept  it?  By  all  means;  and  I  will  come 
and  see  you  at  your  court." 

"  Nothing  is  more  different  between  England  and 
America,"  said  Eedclyffe,  "  than  the  different  way  in 
which  the  citizen  of  either  country  looks  at  official 
station.  To  an  Englishman,  a  commission,  of  what- 
ever kind,  emanating  from  his  sovereign,  brings  ap- 
parently a  gratifying  sense  of  honor;  to  an  American, 
on  the  contrary,  it  offers  really  nothing  of  the  kind. 
He  ceases  to  be  a  sovereign,  —  an  atom  of  sover- 
eignty, at  all  events,  —  and  stoops  to  be  a  servant. 
If  I  accept  this  mission,  honorable  as  you  think  it, 
I  assure  you  I  shall  not  feel  myself  quite  the  man  I 
have  hitherto  been ;  although  there  is  no  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  party  obligations  or  connections  to  my 
taking  it,  if  I  please." 

"  I  do  not  well  understand  this,"  quoth  the  good 
Warden.  "  It  is  one  of  the  promises  of  Scripture 
to  the  wise  man,  that  he  shall  stand  before  kings, 
and  that  this  embassy  will  enable  you  to  do.  No 
man  —  no  man  of  your  country  surely  —  is  more 
worthy  to  do  so;  so  pray  accept." 

"I  think  I  shall,"  said  Eedclyffe. 

Much  as  the  Warden  had  seemed  to  affectionize 
Redclyffe  hitherto,  the  latter  could  not  but  be  sen- 


234        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

sible,  thereafter,  of  a  certain  deference  in  his  friend 
towards  him,  which  he  would  fain  have  got  rid  of,  had 
it  been  in  his  power.  However,  there  was  still  the 
same  heartiness  under  it  all;  and  after  a  little  he 
seemed,  in  some  degree,  to  take  Kedclyffe's  own  view 
of  the  matter  ;  —  namely,  that,  being  so  temporary  as 
these  republican  distinctions  are,  they  really  do  not 
go  skin  deep,  have  no  reality  in  them,  and  that  the 
sterling  quality  of  the  man,  be  it  higher  or  lower,  is 
nowise  altered  by  it ;  —  an  apothegm  that  is  true  even 
of  an  hereditary  nobility,  and  still  more  so  of  our  own 
Honorables  and  Excellencies.  However,  the  good 
Warden  was  glad  of  his  friend's  dignity,  and  per- 
haps, too,  a  little  glad  that  this  high  fortune  had 
befallen  one  whom  lie  chanced  to  be  entertaining 
under  his  roof.  As  it  happened,  there  was  an  oppor- 
tunity which  might  be  taken  advantage  of  to  cele- 
brate the  occasion ;  at  least,  to  make  it  known  to  the 
English  world  so  far  as  the  extent  of  the  county.1 

It  was  an  hereditary  custom  for  the  warden  of 
Braithwaite  Hospital,  once  a  year,  to  give  a  grand 
dinner  to  the  nobility  and  gentry  of  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  and  to  this  end  a  bequest  had  been  made  by 
one  of  the  former  squires  or  lords  of  Braithwaite 
which  would  of  itself  suffice  to  feed  forty  or  fifty 
Englishmen  with  reasonable  sumptuousness.  The 
present  Warden,  being  a  gentleman  of  private  for- 
tune, was  accustomed  to  eke  the  limited  income,  de- 
voted for  this  purpose,  with  such  additions  from  his 
own  resources  as  brought  the  rude  and  hearty  hos- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.        235 

pitality  contemplated  by  the  first  founder  on  a  par 
with  modern  refinements  of  gourmandism.  The  ban- 
quet was  annually  given  in  the  fine  old  hall  where 
James  II.  had  feasted ;  and  on  some  of  these  occa- 
sions the  Warden's  table  had  been  honored  with  illus- 
trious guests ;  especially  when  any  of  them  happened 
to  be  wanting  an  opportunity  to  come  before  the 
public  in  an  after-dinner  speech.  Just  at  present 
there  was  no  occasion  of  that  sort;  and  the  good 
Warden  fancied  that  he  might  give  considerable  eclat 
to  his  hereditary  feast  by  bringing  forward  the  young 
American  envoy,  a  distinguished  and  eloquent  man, 
to  speak  on  the  well-worn  topic  of  the  necessity  of 
friendly  relations  between  England  and  America. 

"  You  are  eloquent,  I  doubt  not,  my  young  friend  ? " 
inquired  he. 

"  Why,  no,"  answered  Eedclyffe,  modestly. 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  know  it,"  returned  the  Warden.  "  If 
one  have  all  the  natural  prerequisites  of  eloquence ; 
a  quick  sensibility,  ready  thought,  apt  expression,  a 
good  voice  —  and  not  making  its  way  into  the  world 
through  your  nose  either,  as  they  say  most  of  your 
countrymen's  voices  do.  You  shall  make  the  crack 
speech  at  my  dinner ;  and  so  strengthen  the  bonds 
of  good  fellowship  between  our  two  countries,  that 
there  shall  be  no  question  of  war  for  at  least  six 
months  to  come." 

Accordingly,  the  preparations  for  this  stately  ban- 
quet went  on  with  great  spirit ;  and  the  Warden 
exhorted  Kedclyffe  to  be  thinking  of  some  good  top- 


236        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

ics  for  his  international  speech ;  but  the  young  man 
laughed  it  off,  and  told  his  friend  that  he  thought 
the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  aided  by  the  good  old 
wine  which  the  Warden  had  told  him  of,  as  among 
the  treasures  of  the  Hospital,  would  perhaps  serve 
him  better  than  any  elaborate  preparation. 

Eedclyffe,  being  not  even  yet  strong,  used  to  spend 
much  time,  when  the  day  chanced  to  be  pleasant, 
(which  was  oftener  than  his  preconceptions  of  Eng- 
lish weather  led  him  to  expect,)  in  the  garden  behind 
the  Warden's  house.  It  was  an  extensive  one,  and 
apparently  as  antique  as  the  foundation  of  the  estab- 
lishment ;  and  during  all  these  years  it  had  probably 
been  growing  richer  and  richer.  Here  were  flowers 
of  ancient  race,  and  some  that  had  been  merely  field 
or  wayside  flowers  when  first  they  came  into  the  gar- 
den ;  but  by  long  cultivation  and  hereditary  care, 
instead  of  dying  out,  they  had  acquired  a  new  rich- 
ness and  beauty,  so  that  you  would  scarcely  recognize 
the  daisy  or  the  violet.  Eoses  too,  there  were,  which 
Doctor  Hammond  said  had  been  taken  from  those 
white  and  red  rose-trees  in  the  Temple  Gardens, 
whence  the  partisans  of  York  and  Lancaster  had 
plucked  their  fatal  badges.  With  these,  there  were 
all  the  modern  and  far-fetched  flowers  from  America, 
the  East,  and  elsewhere ;  even  the  prairie  flowers  and 
the  California  blossoms  were  represented  here ;  for 
one  of  the  brethren  had  horticultural  tastes,  and  was 
permitted  freely  to  exercise  them  there.  The  antique 
character  of  the  garden  was  preserved,  likewise,  by 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         237 

the  alleys  of  box,  a  part  of  which  had  been  suffered 
to  remain,  and  was  now  grown  to  a  great  height  and 
density,  so  as  to  make  impervious  green  walls.  There 
were  also  yew  trees  clipped  into  strange  shapes  of 
bird  and  beast,  and  uncouth  heraldic  figures,  among 
which  of  course  the  leopard's  head  grinned  trium- 
phant;  and  as  for  fruit,  the  high  garden  wall  was 
lined  with  pear  trees,  spread  out  flat  against  it,  where 
they  managed  to  produce  a  cold,  flavorless  fruit,  a 
good  deal  akin  to  cucumbers. 

Here,  in  these  genial  old  arbors,  Eedclyffe  used  to 
recline  in  the  sweet,  mild  summer  weather,  basking 
in  the  sun,  which  was  seldom  too  warm  to  make  its 
full  embrace  uncomfortable ;  and  it  seemed  to  him, 
with  its  fertility,  with  its  marks  everywhere  of  the 
quiet  long-bestowed  care  of  man,  the  sweetest  and 
cosiest  seclusion  he  had  ever  known ;  and  two  or 
three  times  a  day,  when  he  heard  the  screech  of  the 
railway  train,  rushing  on  towards  distant  London,  it 
impressed  him  still  more  with  a  sense  of  safe  repose 
Jaere. 

Not  unfrequently  he  here  met  the  white-bearded 
palmer  in  whose  chamber  he  had  found  himself,  as  if 
conveyed  thither  by  enchantment,  when  he  first  came 
to  the  Hospital.  The  old  man  was  not  by  any  means 
of  the  garrulous  order;  and  yet  he  seemed  full  of 
thoughts,  full  of  reminiscences,  and  not  disinclined  to 
the  company  of  Eedclyffe.  In  fact,  the  latter  some- 
times flattered  himself  that  a  tendency  for  his  society 
was  one  of  the  motives  that  brought  him  to  the  gar- 


238        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

den;  though  the  amount  of  their  intercourse,  after 
all,  was  not  so  great  as  to  warrant  the  idea  of  any 
settled  purpose  in  so  doing.  Nevertheless,  they 
talked  considerably ;  and  Eedclyffe  could  easily  see 
that  the  old  man  had  been  an  extensive  traveller,  and 
had  perhaps  occupied  situations  far  different  from  his 
present  one,  and  had  perhaps  been  a  straggler  in 
troubled  waters  before  he  was  drifted  into  the  retire- 
ment where  Redclyffe  found  him.  He  was  fond  of 
talking  about  the  unsuspected  relationship  that  must 
now  be  existing  between  many  families  in  England 
and  unknown  consanguinity  in  the  new  world,  where, 
perhaps,  really  the  main  stock  of  the  family  tree  was 
now  existing,  and  with  a  new  spirit  and  life,  which 
the  representative  growth  here  in  England  had  lost 
by  too  long  continuance  in  one  air  and  one  mode  of 
life.  For  history  and  observation  proved  that  all 
people  —  and  the  English  people  by  no  means  less 
than  others  —  needed  to  be  transplanted,  or  some- 
how renewed,  every  few  generations ;  so  that,  accord- 
ing to  this  ancient  philosopher's  theory,  it  would  be 
good  for  the  whole  people  of  England  now,  if  it  could 
at  once  be  transported  to  America,  where  its  fat- 
ness, its  sleepiness,  its  too  great  beefiness,  its  pre- 
ponderant animal  character,  would  be  rectified  by  a 
different  air  and  soil ;  and  equally  good,  on  the  other 
hand,  for  the  whole  American  people  to  be  trans- 
planted back  to  the  original  island,  where  their  ner- 
vousness might  be  weighted  with  heavier  influences, 
where  their  little  women  might  grow  bigger,  where 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         239 

their  thin,  dry  men  might  get  a  burden  of  flesh  and 
good  stomachs,  where  their  children  might,  with  the 
air,  draw  in  a  reverence  for  age,  forms,  and  usage. 

Eedclyffe  listened  with  complacency  to  these  spec- 
ulations, smiling  at  the  thought  of  such  an  exodus  as 
would  take  place,  and  the  reciprocal  dissatisfaction 
which  would  probably  be  the  result.  But  he  had 
greater  pleasure  in  drawing  out  some  of  the  old  gen- 
tleman's legendary  lore,  some  of  which,  whether  true 
or  not,  was  very  curious.2 

As  Kedclyffe  sat  one  day  watching  the  old  man  in 
the  garden,  he  could  not  help  being  struck  by  the 
scrupulous  care  with  which  he  attended  to  the 
plants ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  a  sense  of 
justice,  —  of  desiring  to  do  exactly  what  was  right  in 
the  matter,  not  favoring  one  plant  more  than  another, 
and  doing  all  he  could  for  each.  His  progress,  in 
consequence,  was  so  slow,  that  in  an  hour,  while  Eed- 
clyffe was  off  and  on  looking  at  him,  he  had  scarcely 
done  anything  perceptible.  Then  he  was  so  minute  ; 
and  often,  when  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  one 
thing  to  take  up  another,  some  small  neglect  that  he 
saw  or  fancied  called  him  back  again,  to  spend  other 
minutes  on  the  same  task.  He  was  so  full  of  scru- 
ples. It  struck  Eedclyffe  that  this  was  conscience, 
morbid,  sick,  a  despot  in  trifles,  looking  so  closely 
into  life  that  it  permitted  nothing  to  be  done.  The 
man  might  once  have  been  strong  and  able,  but  by 
some  unhealthy  process  of  his  life  he  had  ceased  to 
be  so  now.  Nor  did  any  happy  or  satisfactory  result 


240        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

appear  to  come  from  these  painfully  wrought  efforts  ; 
he  still  seemed  to  know  that  he  had  left  something 
undone  in  doing  too  much  in  another  direction.  Here 
was  a  lily  that  had  been  neglected,  while  he  paid  too 
much  attention  to  a  rose ;  he  had  set  his  foot  on  a 
violet ;  he  had  grubbed  up,  in  his  haste,  a  little  plant 
that  he  mistook  for  a  weed,  but  that  he  now  sus- 
pected was  an  herb  of  grace.  Grieved  by  such  re- 
flections as  these,  he  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  almost 
amounting  to  a  groan,  and  sat  down  on  the  little  stool 
that  he  carried  with  him  in  his  weeding,  resting  his 
face  in  his  hands. 

Eedclyffe  deemed  that  lie  might  be  doing  the  old 
man  a  good  service  by  interrupting  his  melancholy 
labors ;  so  he  emerged  from  the  opposite  door  of  the 
summer-house,  and  came  along  the  adjoining  walk 
with  somewhat  heavy  footsteps,  in  order  that  the 
palmer  might  have  warning  of  his  approach  without 
any  grounds  to  suppose  that  he  had  been  watched 
hitherto.  Accordingly,  when  he  turned  into  the 
other  alley,  he  found  the  old  man  sitting  erect  on  his 
stool,  looking  composed,  but  still  sad,  as  was  his  gen- 
eral custom. 

"  After  all  your  wanderings  and  experience,"  said 
he,  "  I  observe  that  you  come  back  to  the  original 
occupation  of  cultivating  a  garden,  —  the  innocent- 
est  of  all." 

"  Yes,  so  it  would  seem,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  but 
somehow  or  other  I  do  not  find  peace  in  this." 

"These   plants  and   shrubs,"   returned    Eedclyffe, 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.         241 

"seem  at  all  events  to  recognize  the  goodness  of 
your  rule,  so  far  as  it  has  extended  over  them.  See 
how  joyfully  they  take  the  sun ;  how  clear  [they  are] 
from  all  these  vices  that  lie  scattered  round,  in  the 
shape  of  weeds.  It  is  a  lovely  sight,  and  I  could 
almost  fancy  a  quiet  enjoyment  in  the  plants  them- 
selves, which  they  have  no  way  of  making  us  aware 
of,  except  by  giving  out  a  fragrance." 

"  Ah !  how  infinitely  would  that  idea  increase  man's 
responsibility,"  said  the  old  palmer,  "  if,  besides  man 
and  beast,  we  should  find  it  necessary  to  believe  that 
there  is  also  another  set  of  beings  dependent  for  their 
happiness  on  our  doing,  or  leaving  undone,  what 
might  have  effect  011  them!" 

"  I  question,"  said  Eedclyffe,  smiling,  "  whether 
their  pleasurable  or  painful  experiences  can  be  so 
keen,  that  we  need  trouble  our  consciences  much 
with  regard  to  what  we  do,  merely  as  it  affects  them. 
So  highly  cultivated  a  conscience  as  that  would  be  a 
nuisance  to  one's  self  and  one's  fellows." 

"  You  say  a  terrible  thing,"  rejoined  the  old  man. 
"  Can  conscience  be  too  much  alive  in  us  ?  is  not 
everything  however  trifling  it  seems,  an  item  in  the 
great  account,  which  it  is  of  infinite  importance 
therefore  to  have  right  ?  A  terrible  thing  is  that 
you  have  said." 

"That  may  be,"  said  Eedclyffe;  "but  it  is  none 
the  less  certain  to  me,  that  the  efficient  actors — those 
who  mould  the  world  —  are  the  persons  in  whom 
something  else  is  developed  more  strongly  than  con- 

16 


242        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

science.  There  must  be  an  invincible  determination 
to  effect  something;  it  may  be  set  to  work  in  the 
right  direction,  but  after  that  it  must  go  onward, 
trampling  down  small  obstacles  —  small  considera- 
tions of  right  and  wrong  —  as  a  great  rock,  thunder- 
ing down  a  hillside,  crushes  a  thousand  sweet  flowers, 
and  ploughs  deep  furrows  in  the  innocent  hillside." 

As  Kedclyffe  gave  vent  to  this  doctrine,  which  was 
not  naturally  his,  but  which  had  been  the  inculcation 
of  a  life,  hitherto  devoted  to  politics,  he  was  surprised 
to  find  how  strongly  sensible  he  became  of  the  ugli- 
ness and  indefensibleness  of  what  he  said.  He  felt 
as  if  he  were  speaking  under  the  eye  of  Omniscience, 
and  as  if  every  word  he  said  were  weighed,  and  its 
emptiness  detected,  by  an  unfailing  intelligence.  He 
had  thought  that  he  had  volumes  to  say  about  the 
necessity  of  consenting  not  to  do  right  in  all  matters 
minutely,  for  the  sake  of  getting  out  an  available  and 
valuable  right  as  the  whole  ;  but  there  was  something 
that  seemed  to  tie  his  tongue.  Could  it  be  the  quiet 
gaze  of  this  old  man,  so  unpretending,  so  humble,  so 
simple  in  aspect  ?  He  could  not  tell,  only  that  he 
faltered,  and  finally  left  his  speech  in  the  midst. 

But  he  was  surprised  to  find  how  he  had  to  struggle 
against  a  certain  repulsion  within  himself  to  the  old 
man.  He  seemed  so  nonsensical,  interfering  with 
everybody's  right  in  the  world  ;  so  mischievous,  stand- 
ing there  and  shutting  out  the  possibility  of  action. 
It  seemed  well  to  trample  him  down;  to  put  him  out 
of  the  way  —  no  matter  how  —  somehow.  It  gave 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        243 

him,  he  thought,  an  inkling  of  the  way  in  which  this 
poor  old  man  had  made  himself  odious  to  his  kind, 
by  opposing  himself,  inevitably,  to  what  was  bad  in 
man,  chiding  it  by  fris  very  presence,  accepting  noth- 
ing false.  You  must  either  love  him  utterly,  or  hate 
him  utterly ;  for  he  could  not  let  you  alone.  Bed- 
clyffe,  being  a  susceptible  man,  felt  this  influence  in 
the  strongest  way ;  for  it  was  as  if  there  was  a  battle 
within  him,  one  party  pulling,  wrenching  him  towards 
the  old  man,  another  wrenching  him  away,  so  that,  by 
the  agony  of  the  contest,  he  felt  disposed  to  end  it  by 
taking  flight,  and  never  seeing  the  strange  individual 
again.  He  could  well  enough  conceive  how  a  brutal 
nature,  if  capable  of  receiving  his  influence  at  all, 
might  find  it  so  intolerable  that  it  must  needs  get  rid 
of  him  by  violence,  —  by  taking  his  blood  if  neces- 
sary. 

All  these  feelings  were  but  transitory,  however; 
they  swept  across  him  like  a  wind,  and  then  he  looked 
again  at  the  old  man  and  saw  only  his  simplicity,  his 
unworldliness,  —  saw  little  more  than  the  worn  and 
feeble  individual  in  the  Hospital  garb,  leaning  on  his 
staff;  and  then  turning  again  with  a  gentle  sigh  to 
weed  in  the  garden.  And  then  Eedclyffe  went  away, 
in  a  state  of  disturbance  for  which  he  could  not  ac- 
count to  himself. 


244        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

HIGH  up  in  the  old  carved  roof,  meanwhile,  the 
spiders  of  centuries  still  hung  their  flaunting  webs 
with  a  profusion  that  old  Doctor  Grimshawe  would 
have  been  ravished  to  see ;  but  even  this  was  to  be 
remedied,  for  one  day,  on  looking  in,  Eedclyffe  found 
the  great  hall  dim  with  floating  dust,  and  down  through 
it  came  great  floating  masses  of  cobweb,  out  of  which 
the  old  Doctor  would  have  undertaken  to  regenerate 
the  world ;  and  he  saw,  dimly  aloft,  men  on  ladders 
sweeping  away  these  accumulations  of  years,  and 
breaking  up  the  haunts  and  residences  of  hereditary 
spiders. 

The  stately  old  hall  had  been  in  process  of  cleaning 
and  adapting  to  the  banquet  purposes  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  which  it  was  accustomed  to  subserve, 
in  so  proud  a  way,  in  the  sixteenth.  It  was,  in  the 
first  place,  well  swept  and  cleansed ;  the  painted  glass 
windows  were  cleansed  from  dust,  and  several  panes, 
which  had  been  unfortunately  broken  and  filled  with 
common  glass,  were  filled  in  with  colored  panes,  which 
the  Warden  had  picked  up  somewhere  in  his  antiqua- 
rian researches.  They  were  not,  to  be  sure,  just  what 
was  wanted ;  a  piece  of  a  saint,  from  some  cathedral 
window,  supplying  what  was  lacking  of  the  gorgeous 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         245 

purple  of  a  mediaeval  king ;  but  the  general  effect  was 
rich  and  good,  whenever  the  misty  English  atmos- 
phere supplied  sunshine  bright  enough  to  pervade  it. 
Tapestry,  too,  from  antique  looms,  faded,  but  still 
gorgeous,  was  hung  upon  the  walls.  Some  suits  of 
armor,  that  hung  beneath  the  festal  gallery,  were  pol- 
ished till  the  old  battered  helmets  and  pierced  breast- 
plates sent  a  gleam  like  that  with  which  they  had 
flashed  across  the  battle-fields  of  old.1 

So  now  the  great  day  of  the  Warden's  dinner  had 
arrived ;  and,  as  may  be  supposed,  there  were  fiery 
times  in  the  venerable  old  kitchen.  The  cook,  accord- 
ing to  ancient  custom,  concocted  many  antique  dishes, 
such  as  used  to  be  set  before  kings  and  nobles ;  dain- 
ties that  might  have  called  the  dead  out  of  their 
graves ;  combinations  of  ingredients  that  had  ceased 
to  be  put  together  for  centuries ;  historic  dishes,  which 
had  long,  long  ceased  to  be  in  the  list  of  revels.  Then 
there  was  the  stalwart  English  cheer  of  the  sirloin,  and 
the  round;  there  were  the  vast  plum-puddings,  the 
juicy  mutton,  the  venison ;  there  was  the  game,  now 
just  in  season,  —  the  half-tame  wild  fowl  of  English 
covers,  the  half-domesticated  wild  deer  of  English 
parks,  the  heathcock  from  the  far-off  hills  of  Scot- 
land, and  one  little  prairie  hen,  and  some  canvas-back 
ducks  —  obtained,  Heaven  knows  how,  in  compliment 
to  Redclyffe  —  from  his  native  shores.  0,  the  old 
jolly  kitchen !  how  rich  the  flavored  smoke  that  went 
up  its  vast  chimney !  how  inestimable  the  atmosphere 
of  steam  that  was  diffused  through  it !  How  did  the 


246        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

old  men  peep  into  it,  even  venture  across  the  thresh- 
old, braving  the  hot  wrath  of  the  cook  and  his  assist- 
ants, for  the  sake  of  imbuing  themselves  with  these 
rich  and  delicate  flavors,  receiving  them  in  as  it  were 
spiritually ;  for,  received  through  the  breath  and  in  the 
atmosphere,  it  was  really  a  spiritual  enjoyment.  The 
ghosts  of  ancient  epicures  seemed,  on  that  day  and 
the  few  preceding  ones,  to  haunt  the  dim  passages, 
snuffing  in  with  shadowy  nostrils  the  rich  vapors, 
assuming  visibility  in  the  congenial  medium,  almost 
becoming  earthly  again  in  the  strength  of  their  earthly 
longings  for  one  other  feast  such  as  they  used  to 
enjoy. 

Nor  is  it  to  be  supposed  that  it  was  only  these 
antique  dainties  that  the  Warden  provided  for  his 
feast.  No ;  if  the  cook,  the  cultured  and  recondite 
old  cook,  who  had  accumulated  within  himself  all  that 
his  predecessors  knew  for  centuries,  —  if  he  lacked 
anything  of  modern  fashion  and  improvement,  he  had 
supplied  his  defect  by  temporary  assistance  from  a 
London  club ;  and  the  bill  of  fare  was  provided  with 
dishes  that  Soyer  would  riot  have  harshly  criticised. 
The  ethereal  delicacy  of  modern  taste,  the  nice  adjust- 
ment of  flowers,  the  French  style  of  cookery,  was 
richly  attended  to ;  and  the  list  was  long  of  dishes 
with  fantastic  names,  fish,  fowl,  and  flesh ;  and  en- 
tremets, and  "  sweets,"  as  the  English  call  them,  and 
sugared  cates,  too  numerous  to  think  of. 

The  wines  we  will  not  take  upon  ourselves  to  enu- 
merate ;  but  the  juice,  then  destined  to  be  quaffed, 


DOCTOR   GRfMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         247 

was  in.  part  the  precious  vintages  that  had  been 
broached  half  a  century  ago,  and  had  been  ripening 
ever  since ;  the  rich  and  dry  old  port,  so  unlovely  to 
the  natural  palate  that  it  requires  long  English  season- 
ing to  get  it  down ;  the  sherry,  imported  before  these 
modern  days  of  adulteration ;  some  claret,  the  Warden 
said  of  rarest  vintage ;  some  Burgundy,  of  which  it 
was  the  quality  to  warm  the  blood  and  genialize  ex- 
istence for  three  days  after  it  was  drunk.  Then  there 
was  a  rich  liquid  contributed  to  this  department  by 
Redclyffe  himself;  for,  some  weeks  since,  when  the 
banquet  first  loomed  in  the  distance,  he  had  (anxious 
to  evince  his  sense  of  the  Warden's  kindness)  sent 
across  the  ocean  for  some  famous  Madeira  which  he 
had  inherited  from  the  Doctor,  and  never  tasted  yet. 
This,  together  with  some  of  the  Western  wines  of 
America,  had  arrived,  and  was  ready  to  be  broached. 

The  Warden  tested  these  modern  wines,  and  recog- 
nized a  new  flavor,  but  gave  it  only  a  moderate  appro- 
bation; for,  in  truth,  an  elderly  Englishman  has  not 
a  wide  appreciation  of  wines,  nor  loves  new  things  in 
this  kind  more  than  in  literature  or  life.  But  he 
tasted  the  Madeira;  too,  and  underwent  an  ecstasy, 
which  was  only  alleviated  by  the  dread  of  gout,  which 
he  had  an  idea  that  this  wine  must  bring  on,  —  and 
truly,  if  it  were  so  splendid  a  wine  as  he  pronounced 
it,  some  pain  ought  to  follow  as  the  shadow  of  such  a 
pleasure. 

As  it  was  a  festival  of  antique  date,  the  dinner  hour 
had  been  fixed  earlier  than  is  usual  at  such  stately  ban- 


248         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

quets ;  namely,  at  six  o'clock,  which  was  long  before 
the  dusky  hour  at  which  Englishmen  love  best  to  dine. 
About  that  period,  the  carriages  drove  into  the  old 
courtyard  of  the  Hospital  in  great  abundance;  block- 
ing up,  too,  the  ancient  portal,  and  remaining  in  a 
line  outside.  Carriages  they  were  with  armorial 
bearings,  family  coaches  in  which  came  Englishmen 
in  their  black  coats  and  white  neckcloths,  elderly, 
white-headed,  fresh -colored,  squat;  not  beautiful, 
certainly,  nor  particularly  dignified,  nor  very  well 
dressed,  nor  with  much  of  an  imposing  air,  but  yet, 
somehow  or  other,  producing  an  effect  of  force,  re- 
spectability, reliableness,  trust,  which  is  probably 
deserved,  since  it  is  invariably  experienced.  Cold 
they  were  in  deportment,  and  looked  coldly  on  the 
stranger,  who,  on  his  part,  drew  himself  up  with  an 
extra  haughtiness  and  reserve,  and  felt  himself  in  the 
midst  of  his  enemies,  and  more  as  if  he  were  going  to 
do  battle  than  to  sit  down  to  a  friendly  banquet. 
The  Warden  introduced  him,  as  an  American  diplo- 
matist, to  one  or  two  of  the  gentlemen,  who  regarded 
him  forbiddingly,  as  Englishmen  do  before  dinner. 

Not  long  after  Kedclyffe  had  entered  the  reception- 
room,  which  was  but  shortly  before  the  hour  appointed 
for  the  dinner,  there  was  another  arrival  betokened 
by  the  clatter  of  hoofs  and  grinding  wheels  in  the 
courtyard ;  and  then  entered  a  gentleman  of  different 
mien  from  the  bluff,  ruddy,  simple-minded,  yet  worldly 
Englishmen  around  him.  He  was  a  tall,  dark  man, 
with  a  black  moustache  and  almost  olive  skin,  a  slen- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        249 

der,  lithe  figure,  a  flexible  face,  quick,  flashing,  mobile. 
His  deportment  was  graceful;  his  dress,  though  it 
seemed  to  differ  in  little  or  nothing  from  that  of  the 
gentlemen  in  the  room,  had  yet  a  grace  and  pictu- 
resqueness  in  his  mode  of  wearing  it.  He  advanced 
to  the  Warden,  who  received  him  with  distinction, 
and  yet,  Kedclyffe  fancied,  not  exactly  with  cordiality. 
It  seemed  to  Kedclyffe  that  the  Warden  looked  round, 
as  if  with  the  purpose  of  presenting  EedclyfFe  to  this 
gentleman,  but  he  himself,  from  some  latent  reluc- 
tance, had  turned  away  and  entered  into  conversation 
with  one  of  the  other  gentlemen,  who  said  now,  look- 
ing at  the  new-comer,  "  Are  you  acquainted  with  this 
last  arrival?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Eedclyfife.  "  I  know  Lord  Braith- 
waite  by  sight,  indeed,  but  have  had  no  introduction. 
He  is  a  man,  certainly,  of  distinguished  appearance." 

"  Why,  pretty  well,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  but  un- 
English,  as  also  are  his  manners.  It  is  a  pity  to  see 
an  old  English  family  represented  by  such  a  person. 
Neither  he,  his  father,  nor  grandfather  was  born 
among  us ;  he  has  far  more  Italian  blood  than  enough 
to  drown  the  slender  stream  of  Anglo-Saxon  and 
Norman.  His  modes  of  life,  his  prejudices,  his  es- 
tates, his  religion,  are  unlike  our  own ;  and  yet  here 
he  is  in  the  position  of  an  old  English  gentleman, 
possibly  to  be  a  peer.  You,  whose  nationality  em- 
braces that  of  all  the  world,  cannot,  I  suppose,  under- 
stand this  English  feeling."  2 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Kedclyffe,  "  I  can  perfectly  un- 


250        DOCTOR   GRLMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

derstand  it.  An  American,  in  his  feelings  towards 
England,  has  all  the  jealousy  and  exclusiveness  of 
Englishmen  themselves,  —  perhaps,  indeed,  a  little 
exaggerated." 

"  I  heg  your  pardon,"  said  the  Englishman,  in- 
credulously, "  I  think  you  cannot  possibly  under- 
stand it!"3 

The  guests  were  by  this  time  all  assembled,  and  at 
the  Warden's  bidding  they  moved  from  the  reception- 
room  to  the  dining-hall,  in  some  order  and  precedence, 
of  which  Redclyffe  could  not  exactly  discover  the  prin- 
ciple, though  he  found  that  to  himself — in  his  qual- 
ity, doubtless,  of  Ambassador — there  was  assigned 
a  pretty  high  place.  A  venerable  dignitary  of  the 
Church —  a  dean,  he  seemed  to  be  —  having  asked  a 
blessing,  the  fair  scene  of  the  banquet  now  lay  before 
the  guests,  presenting  a  splendid  spectacle,  in  the  high- 
walled,  antique,  tapestried  hall,  overhung  with  the 
dark,  intricate  oaken  beams,  with  the  high  Gothic 
windows,  through  one  of  which  the  setting  sunbeams 
streamed,  and  showed  the  figures  of  kings  and  war- 
riors, and  the  old  Braithwaites  among  them.  Beneath 
and  adown  the  hall  extended  the  long  line  of  the 
tables,  covered  with  the  snow  of  the  damask  table- 
cloth, on  which  glittered,  gleamed,  and  shone  a  good 
quality  of  ancient  ancestral  plate,  and  an  tpergne  of 
silver,  extending  down  the  middle;  also  the  gleam  of 
golden  wine  in  the  decanters ;  and  truly  Redclyffe 
thought  that  it  was  a  noble  spectacle,  made  so  by  old 
and  stately  associations,  which  made  a  noble  banquet 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWFSS  SECRET.         251 

of  what  otherwise  would  be  only  a  vulgar  dinner. 
The  English  have  this  advantage  and  know  how 
to  make  use  of  it.  They  bring  —  in  these  old,  time- 
honored  feasts — all  the  past  to  sit  down  and  take  the 
stately  refreshment  along  with  them,  and  they  pledge 
the  historic  characters  in  their  wine. 

A  printed  bill  of  fare,  in  gold  letters,  lay  by  each 
plate,  on  which  Eedclyffe  saw  the  company  glancing 
with  great  interest.  The  first  dish,  of  course,  was 
turtle  soup,  of  which  —  as  the  gentleman  next  him, 
the  Mayor  of  a  neighboring  town,  told  Eedclyffe  — 
it  was  allowable  to  take  twice.  This  was  accompanied, 
according  to  one  of  those  rules  which  one  knows  not 
whether  they  are  arbitrary  or  founded  on  some  deep 
reason,  by  a  glass  of  punch.  Then  came  the  noble 
turbot,  the  salmon,  the  sole,  and  divers. of  fishes,  and 
the  dinner  fairly  set  in.  The  genial  Warden  seemed 
to  have  given  liberal  orders  to  the  attendants,  for  they 
spared  not  to  offer  hock,  champagne,  sherry,  to  the 
guests,  and  good  bitter  ale,  foaming  in  the  goblet; 
and  so  the  stately  banquet  went  on,  with  somewhat 
tedious  magnificence ;  and  yet  with  a  fulness  of  effect 
and  thoroughness  of  sombre  life  that  made  Eedclyffe 
feel  that,  so  much  importance  being  assigned  to  it,  — 
it  being  so  much  believed  in,  —  it  was  indeed  a  feast. 
The  cumbrous  courses  swept  by,  one  after  another; 
and  Eedclyffe,  finding  it  heavy  work,  sat  idle  most  of 
the  time,  regarding  the  hall,  the  old  decaying  beams, 
the  armor  hanging  beneath  the  galleries,  and  these 
Englishmen  feasting  where  their  fathers  had  feasted 


252        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

for  so  many  ages,  the  same  occasion,  the  same  men, 
probably,  in  appearance,  though  the  black  coat  and 
the  white  neckcloth  had  taken  the  place  of  ruff,  em- 
broidered doublet,  and  the  magnificence  of  other  ages. 
After  all,  the  English  have  not  such  good  things  to 
eat  as  we  in  America,  and  certainly  do  not  know 
better  how  to  make  them  palatable.4 

Well ;  but  by  and  by  the  dinner  came  to  a  con- 
clusion, as  regarded  the  eating  part ;  the  cloth  was 
withdrawn ;  a  dessert  of  fruits,  fresh  and  dried,  pines, 
hothouse  grapes,  and  all  candied  conserves  of  the 
Indies,  was  put  on  the  long  extent  of  polished  ma- 
hogany. There  was  a  tuning  up  of  musicians,  an  in- 
terrogative drawing  of  fiddle-bows,  and  other  musical 
twangs  and  puffs  ;  the  decanters  opposite  the  Warden 
and  his  vice-president,  —  sherry,  port,  Redclyffe's  Ma- 
deira, and  claret,  were  put  in  motion  along  the  table, 
and  the  guests  filled  their  glasses  for  the  toast  which, 
at  English  dinner-tables,  is  of  course  the  first  to  be 
honored,  —  the  Queen.  Then  the  band  struck  up  the 
good  old  anthem,  "  God  save  the  Queen,"  which  the 
whole  company  rose  to  their  feet  to  sing.  It  was  a 
spectacle  both  interesting  and  a  little  ludicrous  to 
Kedclyffe,  —  being  so  apart  from  an  American's  sym- 
pathies, so  unlike  anything  that  he  has  in  his  life  or 
possibilities,  —  this  active  and  warm  sentiment  of 
loyalty,  in  which  love  of  country  centres,  and  assimi- 
lates, and  transforms  itself  into  a  passionate  affection 
for  a  person,  in  whom  they  love  all  their  institutions. 
To  say  the  truth,  it  seemed  a  happy  notion ;  nor 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        253 

could  the  American  —  while  he  comforted  himself  in 
the  pride  of  his  democracy,  and  that  he  himself  was 
a  sovereign  —  could  he  help  envying  it  a  little,  this 
childlike  love  and  reverence  for  a  person  embodying 
all  their  country,  their  past,  their  earthly  future.  He 
felt  that  it  might  be  delightful  to  have  a  sovereign, 
provided  that  sovereign  were  always  a  woman,  — 
and  perhaps  a  young  and  fine  one.  But,  indeed,  this 
is  not  the  difficulty,  metbinks,  in  English  institutions 
which  the  American  finds  it  hardest  to  deal  with. 
We  could  endure  a  born  sovereign,. "especially  if  made 
such  a  mere  pageant  as  the  English  make  of  theirs. 
What  we  find  it  hardest  to  conceive  of  is,  the  satis- 
faction with  which  Englishmen  think  of  a  race  above 
them,  with  privileges  that  they  cannot  share,  entitled 
to  condescend  to  them,  and  to  have  gracious  and 
beautiful  manners  at  their  expense ;  to  be  kind,  sim- 
ple, unpretending,  because  these  qualities  are  more 
available  than  haughtiness ;  to  be  specimens  of  per- 
fect manhood ;  —  all  these  advantages  in  consequence 
of  their  position.  If  the  peerage  were  a  mere  name, 
it  would  be  nothing  to  envy ;  but  it  is  so  much  more 
than  a  name ;  it  enables  men  to  be  really  so  supe- 
rior. The  poor,  the  lower  classes,  might  bear  this 
well  enough ;  but  the  classes  that  come  next  to  tbe 
nobility, — the  upper  middle  classes,  —  how  they 
bear  it  so  lovingly  is  what  must  puzzle  the  Ameri- 
can. But  probably  the  advantage  of  the  peerage  is 
the  less  perceptible  the  nearer  it  is  looked  at. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Kedclyffe,  as  he  looked 


254        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

at  this  assembly  of  peers  and  gentlemen,  thought 
with  some  self-gratulatiou  of  the  probability  that  he 
had  within  his  power  as  old  a  rank,  as  desirable  a 
station,  as  the  best  of  them  ;  and  that  if  he  were  re- 
strained from  taking  it,  it  would  probably  only  be  by 
the  democratic  pride  that  made  him  feel  that  he 
could  not,  retaining  all  his  manly  sensibility,  accept 
this  gewgaw  on  which  the  ages  —  his  own  country 
especially  —  had  passed  judgment,  while  it  had  been 
suspended  over  his  head.  He  felt  himself,  at  any 
rate,  in  a  higher  position,  having  the  option  of  taking 
this  rank,  and  forbearing  to  do  so,  than  if  he  took  it.5 
After  this  ensued  a  ceremony  which  is  of>  antique 
date  in  old  English  corporations  and  institutions,  at 
their  high  festivals.  It  is  called  the  Loving  Cup. 
A  sort  of  herald  or  toast-master  behind  the  Warden's 
chair  made  proclamation,  reciting  the  names  of  the 
principal  guests,  and  announcing  to  them,  "  The 
Warden  of  the  Braithwaite  Hospital  drinks  to  you  in 
a  Loving  Cup "  ;  of  which  cup,  having  sipped,  or 
seemed  to  sip  (for  Eedclyffe  observed  that  the  old 
drinkers  were  rather  shy  of  it)  a  small  quantity,  he 
sent  it  down  the  table.  Its  progress  was  accompa- 
nied with  a  peculiar  entanglement  of  ceremony,  one 
guest  standing  up  while  another  drinks,  being  pretty 
much  as  follows.  First,  each  guest  receiving  it  cov- 
ered from  the  next  above  him,  the  same  took  from 
the  silver  cup  its  silver  cover ;  the  guest  drank  with 
a  bow  to  the  Warden  and  company,  took  the  cover 
from  the  preceding  guest,  covered  the  cup,  handed  it 


DOCTOR 'GKIMSHA  WE' S  SECRET.        255 

to  the  next  below  him,  then  again  removed  the  cover, 
replaced  it  after  the  guest  had  drunk,  who,  on  his 
part,  went  through  the  same  ceremony.  And  thus 
the  cup  went  slowly  on  its  way  down  the  stately  hall ; 
these  ceremonies  being,  it  is  said,  originally  precau- 
tions against  the  risk,  in  wild  times,  of  being  stabbed 
by  the  man  who  was  drinking  with  you,  or  poisoned 
by  one  who  should  fail  to  be  your  taster.  The  cup 
was  a  fine,  ancient  piece  of  plate,  massive,  heavy, 
curiously  wrought  with  armorial  bearings,  in  which 
the  leopard's  head  appeared.  Its  contents,  so  far  as 
Kedclyffe  could  analyze  them  by  a  moderate  sip,  ap- 
peared to  be  claret,  sweetened,  with  spices,  and,  how- 
ever suited  to  the  peculiarity  of  antique  palates,  was 
not  greatly  to  Kedclyffe's  taste.6 

Bedclyffe's  companion  just  below  him,  while  the 
Loving  Cup  was  beginning  its  march,  had  been  ex- 
plaining the  origin  of  the  custom  as  a  defence  of  the 
drinker  in  times  of  deadly  feud  ;  when  it  had  reached 
Lord  Braithwaite,  who  drank  and  passed  it  to  Eed- 
clyffe  covered,  and  with  the  usual  bow,  Kedclyffe 
looked  into  his  Lordship's  Italian  eyes  and  dark  face 
as  he  did  so,  and  the  thought  struck  him,  that,  if  there 
could  possibly  be  any  use  in  keeping  up  this  old  cus- 
tom, it  might  be  so  now ;  for,  how  intimated  he  could 
hardly  tell,  he  was  sensible  in  his  deepest  self  of  a 
deadly  hostility  in  this  dark,  courteous,  handsome 
face.  He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  his  Lordship  as  he 
received  the  cup,  and  felt  that  in  his  own  glance 
there  was  an  acknowledgment  of  the  enmity  that  he 


256        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

perceived,  and  a  defiance,  expressed  without  visible 
sign,  and  felt  in  the  bow  with  which  they  greeted 
one  another.  When  they  had  both  resumed  their 
seats,  Redclyffe  chose  to  make  this  ceremonial  inter- 
course the  occasion  of  again  addressing  him. 

"I  know  not  whether  your  Lordship  is  more  ac- 
customed than  myself  to  these  stately  ceremonials," 
said  he. 

"  No,"  said  Lord  Braithwaite,  whose  English  was 
very  good.  "  But  this  is  a  good  old  ceremony,  and  an 
ingenious  one ;  for  does  it  not  twine  us  into  knotted 
links  of  love  —  this  Loving  Cup  —  like  a  wreath  of 
Bacchanals  whom  I  have  seen  surrounding  an  antique 
vase.  Doubtless  it  has  great  efficacy  in  entwining 
a  company  of  friendly  guests  into  one  affectionate 
society." 

"  Yes ;  it  should  seem  so,"  replied  Eedclyffe,  with 
a  smile,  and  again  meeting  those  black  eyes,  which 
smiled  back  on  him.  "It  should  seem  so,  but  it 
appears  that  the  origin  of  the  custom  was  quite  dif- 
ferent, and  that  it  was  as  a  safeguard  to  a  man  when 
he  drank  with  his  enemy.  What  a  peculiar  flavor  it 
must  have  given  to  the  liquor,  when  the  eyes  of  two 
deadly  foes  met  over  the  brim  of  the  Loving  Cup, 
and  the  drinker  knew  that,  if  he  withdrew  it,  a  dag- 
ger would  be  in  his  heart,  and  the  other  watched 
him  drink,  to  see  if  it  was  poison ! " 

"  Ah  ! "  responded  his  Lordship,  "  they  had  strange 
fashions  in  those  rough  old  times.  Nowadays,  we 
neither  stab,  shoot,  nor  poison.  I  scarcely  think  we 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        257 

hate  except  as  interest  guides  us,  without  malevo- 
lence." 

This  singular  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a 
toast,  and  the  rising  of  one  of  the  guests  to  answer  it. 
Several  other  toasts  of  routine  succeeded;  one  of 
which,  being  to  the  honor  of  the  old  founder  of  the 
Hospital,  Lord  Braithwaite,  as  his  representative,  rose 
to  reply,  —  which  he  did  in  good  phrases,  in  a  sort  of 
eloquence  unlike  that  of  the  Englishmen  around  him, 
and,  sooth  to  say,  comparatively  unaccustomed  as  he 
must  have  been  to  the  use  of  the  language,  much 
more  handsomely  than  they.  In  truth,  Kedelyffe  was 
struck  and  amused  with  the  rudeness,  the  slovenli- 
ness, the  inartistic  quality  of  the  English  speakers, 
who  rather  seemed  to  avoid  grace  and  neatness  of  set 
purpose,  as  if  they  would  be  ashamed  of  it.  Nothing 
could  be  more  ragged  than  these  utterances  which 
they  called  speeches;  so  patched,  and  darned;  and 
yet,  somehow  or  other  —  though  dull  and  heavy  as 
all  which  seemed  to  inspire  them  — they  had  a  kind 
of  force.  Each  man  seemed  to  have  the  faculty  of 
getting,  after  some  rude  fashion,  at  the  sense  and  feel- 
ing that  was  in  him ;  and  without  glibness,  without 
smoothness,  without  form  or  comeliness,  still  the 
object  with  which  each  one  rose  to  speak  was  ac- 
complished, —  and  what  was  more  remarkable,  it 
seemed  to  be  accomplished  without  the  speaker's 
having  any  particular  plan  for  doing  it.  He  was  sur- 
prised, too,  to  observe  how  loyally  every  man  seemed 
to  think  himself  bound  to  speak,  and  rose  to  do  his 

17 


258        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

best,  however  unfit  his  usual  habits  made  him  for 
the  task.  Observing  this,  and  thinking  how  many 
an  American  would  be  taken  aback  and  dumbfounded 
by  being  called  on  for  a  dinner  speech,  he  could  not 
but  doubt  the  correctness  of  the  general  opinion,  that 
Englishmen  are  naturally  less  facile  of  public  speech 
than  our  countrymen. 

"  You  surpass  your  countrymen,"  said  Redclyffe, 
when  his  Lordship  resumed  his  seat,  amid  rapping 
and  loud  applause. 

"  My  countrymen  ?  I  scarcely  know  whether  you 
mean  the  English  or  Italians,"  said  Lord  Braithwaite. 
"  Like  yourself,  I  am  a  hybrid,  with  really  no  country, 
and  ready  to  take  up  with  any." 

"  I  have  a  country,  —  one  which  I  am  little  in- 
clined to  deny,"  replied  Redclyffe,  gravely,  while  a 
flush  (perhaps  of  conscientious  shame)  rose  to  his 
brow. 

His  Lordship  bowed,  with  a  dark  Italian  smile,  but 
Redclyffe's  attention  was  drawn  away  from  the  con- 
versation by  a  toast  which  the  Warden  now  rose  to 
give,  and  in  which  he  found  himself  mainly  con- 
cerned. With  a  little  preface  of  kind  words  (not 
particularly  aptly  applied)  to  the  great  and  kindred 
country  beyond  the  Atlantic,  the  worthy  Warden 
proceeded  to  remark  that  his  board  was  honored,  on 
this  high  festival,  with  a  guest  from  that  new  world ; 
a  gentleman  yet  young,  but  already  distinguished  in 
the  councils  of  his  country ;  the  bearer,  he  remarked, 
of  an  honored  English  name,  which  might  well  claim 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        259 

to  be  remembered  here,  and  on  this  occasion,  although 
he  had  understood  from  his  friend  that  the  American 
bearers  of  this  name  did  not  count  kindred  with  the 
English  ones.  This  gentleman,  he  further  observed, 
with  considerable  flourish  and  emphasis,  had  recently 
been  called  from  his  retirement  and  wanderings  into 
the  diplomatic  service  of  his  country,  which  he  would 
say,  from  his  knowledge,  the  gentleman  was  well 
calculated  to  honor.  He  drank  the  health  of  the 
Honorable  Edward  Eedclyffe,  Ambassador  of  the 
United  States  to  the  Court  of  Hohen-Linden. 

Our  English  cousins  received  this  toast  with  the 
kindest  enthusiasm,  as  they  always  do  any  such  allu- 
sion to  our  country  ;  it  being  a  festal  feeling,  not  to 
be  used  except  on  holidays.  They  rose,  with  glass  in 
hand,  in  honor  of  the  Ambassador ;  the  band  struck 
up  "  Hail,  Columbia  "  ;  and  our  hero  marshalled  his 
thoughts  as  well  as  he  might  for  the  necessary  re- 
sponse ;  and  when  the  tumult  subsided  he  arose. 

His  quick  apprehending  had  taught  him  something 
of  the  difference  of  taste  between  an  English  and  an 
American  audience  at  a  dinner-table ;  he  felt  that 
there  must  be  a  certain  looseness,  and  carelessness, 
and  roughness,  and  yet  a  certain  restraint ;  that  he 
must  not  seem  to  aim  at  speaking  well,  although,  for 
his  own  ambition,  he  was  not  content  to  speak  ill ; 
that,  somehow  or  other,  he  must  get  a  heartiness  into 
his  speech  ;  that  he  must  not  polish,  nor  be  too  neat, 
and  must  come  with  a  certain  rudeness  to  his  good 
points,  as  if  he  blundered  on  them,  and  were  sur- 


260         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

prised  into  them.  Above  all,  he  must  let  the  good 
wine  and  cheer,  and  all  that  he  knew  and  really  felt 
of  English  hospitality,  as  represented  by  the  kind 
Warden,  do  its  work  upon  his  heart,  and  speak  up 
to  the  extent  of  what  he  felt  —  and  if  a  little  more, 
then  no  great  harm  —  about  his  own  love  for  the 
father-land,  and  the  broader  grounds  of  the  relations 
between  the  two  countries.  On  this  system,  Eedclyffe 
began  to  speak  ;  and  being  naturally  and  habitually 
eloquent,  and  of  mobile  and  ready  sensibilities,  he 
succeeded,  between  art  and  nature,  in  making  a 
speech  that  absolutely  delighted  the  company,  who 
made  the  old  hall  echo,  and  the  banners  wave  and 
tremble,  and  the  board  shake,  and  the  glasses  jingle, 
with  their  rapturous  applause.  What  he  said  —  or 
some  shadow  of  it,  and  more  than  he  quite  liked  to 
own  —  was  reported  in  the  county  paper  that  gave 
a  report  of  the  dinner ;  but  on  glancing  over  it,  it 
seems  not  worth  while  to  produce  this  eloquent  effort 
in  our  pages,  the  occasion  and  topics  being  of  merely 
temporary  interest. 

Eedclyffe  sat  down,  and  sipped  his  claret,  feeling 
a  little  ashamed  of  himself,  as  people  are  apt  to  do 
after  a  display  of  this  kind. 

"  You  know  the  way  to  the  English  heart  better 
than  I  do,"  remarked  his  Lordship,  after  a  polite 
compliment  to  the  speech.  "  Methinks  these  dull 
English  are  being  improved  in  your  atmosphere.  The 
English  need  a  change  every  few  centuries,  —  either 
by  immigration  of  new  stock,  or  transportation  of 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        261 

the  old,  —  or  else  they  grow  too  gross  and  earthly, 
with  their  beef,  mutton,  and  ale.  I  think,  now,  it 
might  benefit  both  countries,  if  your  New  England 
population  were  to  be  reciprocally  exchanged  with 
an  equal  number  of  Englishmen.  Indeed,  Italians 
might  do  as  well." 

"  I  should  regret,"  said  Kedclyffe,  "  to  change  the 
English,  heavy  as  they  are." 

"  You  are  an  admirable  Englishman,"  said  his 
Lordship.  "  For  my  part,  I  cannot  say  that  the 
people  are  very  much  to  my  taste,  any  more  than 
their  skies  and  climate,  in  which  I  have  shivered 
during  the  two  years  that  I  have  spent  here." 

Here  their  conversation  ceased ;  and  Bedclyffe  lis- 
tened to  a  long  train  of  speechifying,  in  the  course 
of  which  everybody,  almost,  was  toasted ;  everybody 
present,  at  all  events,  and  many  absent.  The  War- 
den's old  wine  was  not  spared ;  the  music  rang  and 
resounded  from  the  gallery ;  and  everybody  seemed  to 
consider  it  a  model  feast,  although  there  were  no  very 
vivid  signs  of  satisfaction,  but  a  decorous,  heavy  en- 
joyment, a  dull  red  heat  of  pleasure,  without  flame. 
Soda  and  seltzer-water,  and  coffee,  by  and  by  were 
circulated ;  and  at  a  late  hour  the  company  began  to 
retire. 

Before  taking  his  departure,  Lord  Braithwaite  re- 
sumed his  conversation  with  Kedclyffe,  and,  as  it 
appeared,  with  the  purpose  of  making  a  hospitable 
proposition. 

"  I  live  very  much  alone,"  said  he,  "  being  insu- 


262        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

lated  from  my  neighbors  by  many  circumstances,  — 
habits,  religion,  and  everything  else  peculiarly  Eng- 
lish. If  you  are  curious  about  old  English  modes  of 
life,  I  can  show  you,  at  least,  an  English  residence, 
little  altered  within  a  century  past.  Pray  come  and 
spend  a  week  with  rne  before  you  leave  this  part  of 
the  country.  Besides,  I  know  the  court  to  which 
you  are  accredited,  and  can  give  you,  perhaps,  useful 
information  about  it." 

Redclyffe  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise,  and  with 
a  nameless  hesitation ;  for  he  did  not  like  his  Lord- 
ship, and  had  fancied,  in  truth,  that  there  was  a 
reciprocal  antipathy.  Nor  did  he  yet  feel  that  he 
was  mistaken  in  this  respect ;  although  his  Lord- 
ship's invitation  was  given  in  a  tone  of  frankness, 
and  seemed  to  have  no  reserve,  except  that  his  eyes 
did  not  meet  his  like  Anglo-Saxon  eyes,  and  there 
seemed  an  Italian  looking  out  from  within  the  man. 
But  Eedclyffe  had  a  sort  of  repulsion  within  himself ; 
and  he  questioned  whether  it  would  be  fair  to  his 
proposed  host  to  accept  his  hospitality,  while  he  had 
this  secret  feeling  of  hostility  and  repugnance, — 
which  might  be  well  enough  accounted  for  by  the 
knowledge  that  he  secretly  entertained  hostile  inter- 
ests to  their  race,  and  half  a  purpose  of  putting  them 
in  force.  And,  besides  this,  —  although  Redclyffe 
was  ashamed  of  the  feeling,  —  he  had  a  secret  dread, 
a  feeling  that  it  was  not  just  a  safe  thing  to  trust 
himself  in  this  man's  power  ;  for  he  had  a  sense,  sure 
as  death,  that  he  did  not  wish  him  well,  and  had  a 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.        263 

secret  dread  of  the  American.  But  he  laughed  within 
himself  at  this  feeling,  and  drove  it  down.  Yet  it 
made  him  feel  that  there  could  be  no  disloyalty  in 
accepting  his  Lordship's  invitation,  because  it  was 
given  in  as  little  friendship  as  it  would  be  accepted. 

"  I  had  almost  made  my  arrangements  for  quitting 
the  neighborhood,"  said  he,  after  a  pause  ;  "  nor  can 
I  shorten  the  week  longer  which  I  had  promised  to 
spend  with  my  very  kind  friend,  the  Warden.  Yet 
your  Lordship's  kindness  offers  me  a  great  tempta- 
tion, and  I  would  gladly  spend  the  next  ensuing  week 
at  Braithwaite  Hall." 

"  I  shall  expect  you,  then,"  said  Lord  Braithwaite. 
"You  will  find  me  quite  alone,  except  my  chaplain, — 
a  scholar,  and  a  man  of  the  world,  whom  you  will 
not  be  sorry  to  know." 

He  bowed  and  took  his  leave,  without  shaking 
hands,  as  an  American  would  have  thought  it  natu- 
ral to  do,  after  such  a  hospitable  agreement ;  nor  did 
Redclyffe  make  any  motion  towards  it,  and  was  glad 
that  his  Lordship  had  omitted  it.  On  the  whole, 
there  was  a  secret  dissatisfaction  with  himself;  a 
sense  that  he  was  not  doing  quite  a  frank  and  true 
thing  in  accepting  this  invitation,  and  he  only  made 
peace  with  himself  on  the  consideration  that  Lord 
Braithwaite  was  as  little  cordial  in  asking  the  visit 
as  he  in  acceding  to  it. 


264        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE  guests  were  now  rapidly  taking  their  depart- 
ure, and  the  Warden  and  Redclyffe  were  soon  left 
alone  in  the  antique  hall,  which  now,  in  its  solitude, 
presented  an  aspect  far  different  from  the  gay  fes- 
tivity of  an  hour  before ;  the  duskiness  up  in  the 
carved  oaken  beams  seemed  to  descend  arid  fill  the 
hall ;  and  the  remembrance  of  the  feast  was  like  one 
of  those  that  had  taken  place  centuries  ago,  with 
which  this  was  now  numbered,  and  growing  ghostly, 
and  faded,  and  sad,  even  as  they  had  long  been. 

"  Well,  my  dear  friend,"  said  the  Warden,  stretch- 
ing himself  and  yawning,  "  it  is  over.  Come  into  my 
study  with  me,  and  we  will  have  a  devilled  turkey- 
bone  and  a  pint  of  sherry  in  peace  and  comfort." 

"  I  fear  I  can  make  no  figure  at  such  a  supper," 
said  Redclyffe.  "But  I  admire  your  inexhaustible- 
ness  in  being  ready  for  midnight  refreshment  after 
such  a  feast." 

"  Not  a  glass  of  good  liquor  has  moistened  my  lips 
to-night,"  said  the  Warden,  "  save  and  except  such  as 
was  supplied  by  a  decanter  of  water  made  brown  with 
toast ;  and  such  a  sip  as  I  took  to  the  health  of  the 
Queen,  and  another  to  that  of  the  Ambassador  to 
Hohen-Lmden.  It  is  the  only  way,  when  a  man 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        265 

has  this  vast  labor  of  speechifying  to  do ;  and  in- 
deed there  is  no  possibility  of  keeping  up  a  jolly 
countenance  for  such  a  length  of  time  except  on 
toast-water." 

They  accordingly  adjourned  to  the  Warden's  sanc- 
tum, where  that  worthy  dignitary  seemed  to  enjoy 
himself  over  his  sherry  and  cracked  bones,  in  a  de- 
gree that  he  probably  had  not  heretofore ;  while  Red- 
clyffe,  whose  potations  had  been  more  liberal,  and  who 
was  feverish  and  disturbed,  tried  the  effect  of  a  little 
brandy  and  soda-water.  As  often  happens  at  such 
midnight  symposiums,  the  two  friends  found  them- 
selves in  a  more  kindly  and  confidential  vein  than  had 
happened  before,  great  as  had  been  the  kindness  and 
confidence  already  grown  up  between  them.  Redclyffe 
told  his  friend  of  Lord  Braithwaite's  invitation,  and  of 
his  own  resolution  to  accept  it. 

"  Why  not  ?  You  will  do  well,"  said  the  Warden  ; 
"  and  you  will  find  his  Lordship  an  accustomed  host, 
and  the  old  house  most  interesting.  If  he  knows  the 
secrets  of  it  himself,  and  will  show  them,  they  will  be 
well  worth  the  seeing." 

"  I  have  had  a  scruple  in  accepting  this  invitation," 
said  Redclyffe. 

"  I  cannot  see  why,"  said  the  Warden.  "  I  advise 
it  by  all  means,  since  I  shall  lose  nothing  by  it  my- 
self, as  it  will  not  lop  off  any  part  of  your  visit  to 
me." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Redclyffe,  irresistibly  im- 
pelled to  a  confidence  which  he  had  not  meditated 


266         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

a  moment  before,  "there  is  a  foolish  secret  which  I 
must  tell  you,  if  you  will  listen  to  it ;  and  which  I 
have  only  not  revealed  to  you  because  it  seemed  to 
me  foolish  and  dream-like;  because,  too,  I  am  an 
American,  and  a  democrat ;  because  I  am  ashamed  of 
myself  and  laugh  at  myself." 

"  Is  it  a  long  story  ? "  asked  the  Warden. 

"I  can  make  it  of  any  length,  and  almost  any 
brevity,"  said  Redclyffe. 

"  I  will  fill  rny  pipe  then,"  answered  the  Warden, 
"  and  listen  at  my  ease ;  and  if,  as  you  intimate,  there 
prove  to  be  any  folly  in  it,  I  will  impute  it  all  to  the 
kindly  freedom  with  which  you  have  partaken  of  our 
English  hospitality,  and  forget  it  before  to-morrow 
morning." 

He  settled  himself  in  his  easy-chair,  in  a  most  lux- 
urious posture ;  and  Redclyffe,  who  felt  a  strange  re- 
luctance to  reveal  —  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  — 
the  shadowy  hopes,  if  hopes  they  were,  and  purposes, 
if  such  they  could  be  called,  with  which  he  had 
amused  himself  so  many  years,  begun  the  story  from 
almost  the  earliest  period  that  he  could  remember. 
He  told  even  of  his  earliest  recollection,  with  an  old 
woman,  in  the  almshouse,  and  how  he  had  been  found 
there  by  the  Doctor,  and  educated  by  him,  with  all 
the  hints  and  half-revelations  that  had  been  made 
to  him.  He  described  the  singular  character  of  the 
Doctor,  his  scientific  pursuits,  his  evident  accomplish- 
ments, his  great  abilities,  his  morbidness  and  melan- 
choly, his  moodiness,  and  finally  his  death,  and  the 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         267 

singular  circumstances  that  accompanied  it.  The 
story  took  a  considerable  time  to  tell ;  and  after 
its  close,  the  Warden,  who  had  only  interrupted  it 
by  now  and  then  a  question  to  make  it  plainer, 
continued  to  smoke  his  pipe  slowly  and  thought- 
fully for  a  long  while. 

"  This  Doctor  of  yours  was  a  singular  character," 
said  he.  "  Evidently,  from  what  you  tell  me  as  to 
the  accuracy  of  his  local  reminiscences,  he  must  have 
been  of  this  part  of  the  country,  —  of  this  imme- 
diate neighborhood,  —  and  such  a  man  could  not 
have  grown  up  here  without  being  known.  I  my- 
self —  for  I  am  an  old  fellow  now  —  might  have 
known  him  if  he  lived  to  manhood  hereabouts." 

"  He  seemed  old  to  me  when  I  first  knew  him," 
said  EedclyfTe.  "  But  children  make  no  distinctions 
of  age.  He  might  have  been  forty-five  then,  as  well 
as  I  can  judge." 

"  You  are  now  twenty-seven  or  eight,"  said  the 
Warden,  "and  were  four  years  old  when  you  first 
knew  him.  He  might  now  be  sixty-five.  Do  you 
know,  my  friend,  that  I  have  something  like  a  cer- 
tainty that  I  know  who  your  Doctor  was  ?  " 

"  How  strange  this  seems  !  "  exclaimed  Eedclyffe. 
"  It  has  never  struck  me  that  I  should  be  able  to 
identify  this  singular  personage  with  any  surround- 
ings or  any  friends." 

The  Warden,  to  requite  his  friend's  story,  —  and 
without  as  yet  saying  a  word,  good  or  bad,  on  his 
ancestral  claims,  —  proceeded  to  tell  him  some  of  the 


268         DOCTOR   GR1MSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

gossip  of  the  neighborhood,  —  what  had  been  gossip 
thirty  or  forty  years  ago,  but  was  now  forgotten,  or, 
at  all  events,  seldom  spoken  of,  and  only  known  to 
the  old,  at  the  present  day.  He  himself  remembered 
it  only  as  a  boy,  and  imperfectly.  There  had  been  a 
personage  of  that  day,  a  man  of  poor  estate,  who  had 
fallen  deeply  in  love  and  been  betrothed  to  a  young 
lady  of  family;  he  was  a  young  man  of  more  than 
ordinary  abilities,  and  of  great  promise,  though  small 
fortune.  It  was  not  well  known  how,  but  the  match 
between  him  and  the  young  lady  was  broken  off. 
and  his  place  was  supplied  by  the  then  proprietor  of 
Braithwaite  Hall;  as  it  was  supposed,  by  the  arti- 
fices of  her  mother.  There  had  been  circumstances 
of  peculiar  treachery  in  the  matter,  and  Mr.  Ogle- 
thorpe  had  taken  it  severely  to  heart;  so  severely, 
indeed,  that  he  had  left  the  country,  after  selling  his 
ancestral  property,  and  had  only  been  occasionally 
heard  of  again.  Now,  from  certain  circumstances,  it 
had  struck  the  Warden  that  this  might  be  the  mys- 
terious Doctor  of  whom  Eedclyffe  spoke.1 

"But  why,"  suggested  Eedclyffe,  "should  a  man 
with  these  wrongs  to  avenge  take  such  an  interest  in 
a  descendant  of  his  enemy's  family  ? " 

"  That  is  a  strong  point  in  favor  of  my  supposition," 
replied  the  Warden.  "There  is  certainly,  and  has 
long  been,  a  degree  of  probability  that  the  true  heir 
of  this  family  exists  in  America.  If  Oglethorpe  could 
discover  him,  he  ousts  his  enemy  from  the  estate  and 
honors,  and  substitutes  the  person  whom  he  has  dis- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        269 

covered  and  educated.  Most  certainly  there  is  re- 
venge in  the  thing.  £jjiould  it  happen  now,  however, 
the  triumph  would  have  lost  its  sweetness,  even  were 
Oglethorpe  alive  to  partake  of  it;  for  his  enemy  is 
dead,  leaving  no  heir,  and  this  foreign  branch  has 
come  in  without  Oglethorpe's  aid." 

The  friends  remained  musing  a  considerable  time, 
each  in  his  own  train  of  thought,  till  the  Warden 
suddenly  spoke. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  prosecute  this  apparent  claim  of 
yours?" 

"  I  have  not  intended  to  do  so,"  said  Redclyffe. 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  Warden,  "  that  should  depend 
upon  the  strength  of  your  ground ;  and  I  understand 
you  that  there  is  some  link  wanting  to  establish  it. 
Otherwise,  I  see  not  how  you  can  hesitate.  Is  it  a 
little  thing  to  hold  a  claim  to  an  old  English  estate 
and  honors  ? " 

"  No ;  it  is  a  very  great  thing,  to  an  Englishman 
born,  and  .who  need  give  up  no  higher  birthright  to 
avail  himself  of  it,"  answered  Kedclyffe.  "  You  will 
laugh  at  me,  my  friend ;  but  I  cannot  help  feeling 
that  I,  a  simple  citizen  of  a  republic,  yet  with  none 
above  me  except  those  whom  I  help  to  place  there, 
—  and  who  are  my  servants,  not  my  superiors, — 
must  stoop  to  take  these  honors.  I  leave  a  set  of 
institutions  which  are  the  noblest  that  the  wit  and 
civilization  of  man  have  yeft  conceived,  to  enlist  my- 
self in  one  that  is  based  on  a  far  lower  conception  of 
man,  and  which  therefore  lowers  every  one  who  shares 


270        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

in  it.  Besides,"  said  the  young  man,  his  eyes  kin- 
dling with  the  ambition  whicji  had  been  so  active  a 
principle  in  his  life,  "  what  prospects  —  what  rewards 
for  spirited  exertion  —  what  a  career,  only  open  to  an 
American,  would  I  give  up,  to  become  merely  a  rich 
and  idle  Englishman,  belonging  (as  I  should)  nowhere, 
without  a  possibility  of  struggle,  such  as  a  strong 
man  loves,  with  only  a  mockery  of  a  title,  which  in 
these  days  really  means  nothing,  —  hardly  more  than 
one  of  our  own  Honorables.  What  has  any  success 
in  English  life  to  offer  (even  were  it  within  my  reach, 
which,  as  a  stranger,  it  would  not  be)  to  balance  the 
proud  career  of  an  American  statesman  ?  " 

"  True,  you  might  be  a  President,  I  suppose,"  said 
the  Warden,  rather  contemptuously,  —  "  a  four  years' 
potentate.  It  seems  to  me  an  office  about  on  a  par 
with  that  of  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  For  my 
part,  I  would  rather  be  a  baron  of  three  or  four  hun- 
dred years'  antiquity." 

"We  talk  in  vain,"  said  Eedclyffe,  laughing. 
"We  do  not  approach  one  another's  ideas  on  this 
subject.  But,  waiving  all  speculations  as  to  my  at- 
tempting to  avail  myself  of  this  claim,  do  you  think 
I  can  fairly  accept  this  invitation  to  visit  Lord  Braith- 
waite  ?  There  is  certainly  a  possibility  that  I  may 
arraign  myself  against  his  dearest  interests.  Con- 
scious of  this,  can  I  accept  his  hospitality  ? " 

The  Warden  paused.  "  You  have  not  sought  access 
to  his  house,"  he  observed.  ."You  have  no  designs, 
it  seems,  no  settled  designs  at  all  events,  against  his 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         271 

Lordship,  —  nor  is  there  a  probability  that  they  would 
be  forwarded  by  your  accepting  this  invitation,  even 
if  you  had  any.  I  do  not  see  but  you  may  go.  The 
only  danger  is,  that  his  Lordship's  engaging  quali- 
ties may  seduce  you  into  dropping  your  claims  out 
of  a  chivalrous  feeling,  which  I  see  is  among  your 
possibilities.  To  be  sure,  it  would  be  more  satisfac- 
tory if  he  knew  your  actual  position,  and  should  then 
renew  his  invitation." 

"  I  am  convinced,"  said  Eedclyffe,  looking  up  from 
his  musing  posture,  "  that  he  does  know  them.  You 
are  surprised;  but  in  all  Lord  Braithwaite's  manner 
towards  me  there  has  been  an  undefinable  something 
that  makes  me  aware  that  he  knows  on  what  terms 
we  stand  towards  each  other.  There  is  nothing  in- 
conceivable in  this.  The  family  have  for  generations 
been  suspicious  of  an  American  line,  and  have  more 
than  once  sent  messengers  to  try  to  search  out  and  put 
a  stop  to  the  apprehension.  Why  should  it  not  have 
come  to  their  knowledge  that  there  was  a  person  with 
such  claims,  and  that  he  is  now  in  England  ? " 

"It  certainly  is  possible,"  replied  the  Warden, 
"  and  if  you  are  satisfied  that  his  Lordship  knows  it, 
or  even  suspects  it,  you  meet  him  on  fair  ground. 
But  I  fairly  tell  you,  my  good  friend,  that  —  his  Lord- 
ship being  a  man  of  unknown  principles  of  honor, 
outlandish,  and  an  Italian  in  habit  and  moral  sense 
—  I  scarcely  like  to  trust  you  in  his  house,  he  being 
aware  that  your  existence  may  be  inimical  to  him. 
My  humble  board  is  the  safer  of  the  two." 


272         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  Pshaw ! "  said  Bedclyffe.  "  You  Englishmen  are 
so  suspicious  of  anybody  not  regularly  belonging  to 
yourselves.  Poison  and  the  dagger  haunt  your  con- 
ceptions of  all  others.  In  America  you  think  we  kill 
every  third  man  with  the  bowie-knife.  But,  suppos- 
ing there  were  any  grounds  for  your  suspicion,  I  would 
still  encounter  it.  An  American  is  no  braver  than 
an  Englishman ;  but  still  he  is  not  quite  so  chary  of 
his  life  as  the  latter,  who  never  risks  it  except  on  the 
most  imminent  necessity.  We  take  such  matters 
easy.  In  regard  to  this  invitation,  I  feel  that  I  can 
honorably  accept  it,  and  there  are  many  idle  and  cu- 
rious motives  that  impel  me  to  it.  I  will  go." 

"  Be  it  so ;  but  you  must  come  back  to  me  for  an- 
other week,  after  finishing  your  visit,"  said  the  War- 
den. "  After  all,  it  was  an  idle  fancy  in  me  that  there 
could  be  any  danger.  His  Lordship  has  good  English 
blood  in  his  veins,  and  it  would  take  oceans  and  riv- 
ers of  Italian  treachery  to  wash  out  the  sterling  qual- 
ity of  it.  And,  my  good  friend,  as  to  these  claims  of 
yours,  I  would  not  have  you  trust  too  much  to  what 
is  probably  a  romantic  dream  ;  yet,  were  the  dream  to 
come  true,  I  should  think  the  British  peerage  honored 
by  such  an  accession  to  its  ranks.  And  now  to  bed ; 
for  we  have  heard  the  chimes  of  midnight,  two  hours 
agone." 

They  accordingly  retired ;  and  Eedclyffe  was  sur- 
prised to  find  what  a  distinctness  his  ideas  respecting 
his  claim  to  the  Braithwaite  honors  had  assumed,  now 
that  he,  after  so  many  years,  had  imparted  them  to 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         273 

another.  Heretofore,  though  his  imagination  had 
played  with  them  so  much,  they  seemed  the  veriest 
dreams ;  now,  they  had  suddenly  taken  form  and 
hardened  into  substance ;  and  he  became  aware,  in 
spite  of  all  the  lofty  and  patriotic  sentiments  which 
he  had  expressed  to  the  Warden,  that  these  prospects 
had  really  much  importance  in  his  mind. 

Eedclyffe,  during  the  few  days  that  he  was  to  spend 
at  the  Hospital,  previous  to  his  visit  to  Braithwaite 
Hall,  was  conscious  of  a  restlessness  such  as  we  have 
all  felt  on  the  eve  of  some  interesting  event.  He 
wondered  at  himself  at  being  so  much  wrought  up  by 
so  simple  a  thing  as  he  was  about  to  do  ;  but  it  seemed 
to  him  like  a  coming  home  after  an  absence  of  centu- 
ries. It  was  like  an  actual  prospect  of  entrance  into 
a  castle  in  the  air,  —  the  shadowy  threshold  of  which 
should  assume  substance  enough  to  bear  his  foot,  its 
thin,  fantastic  walls  actually  protect  him  from  sun 
and  rain,  its  hall  echo  with  his  footsteps,  its  hearth 
warm  him.  That  delicious,  thrilling  uncertainty  be- 
tween reality  and  fancy,  in  which  he  had  often  been 
enwrapt  since  his  arrival  in  this  region,  enveloped 
him  more  strongly  than  ever ;  and  with  it,  too,  there 
came  a  sort  of  apprehension,  which  sometimes  shud- 
dered through  him  like  an  icy  draught,  or  the  touch 
of  cold  steel  to  his  heart.  He  was  ashamed,  too,  to 
be  conscious  of  anything  like  fear ;  yet  he  would  not 
acknowledge  it  for  fear ;  and  indeed  there  was  such 
an  airy,  exhilarating,  thrilling  pleasure  bound  up  with 
it,  that  it  could  not  really  be  so. 

18 


274        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

It  was  in  this  state  of  mind  that,  a  day  or  two  after 
the  feast,  he  saw  Colcord  sitting  on  the  bench,  before 
the  portal  of  the  Hospital,  in  the  sun,  which  —  Sep- 
tember though  it  was  —  still  came  warm  and  bright 
(for  English  sunshine)  into  that  sheltered  spot;  a 
spot  where  many  generations  of  old  men  had  warmed 
their  limbs,  while  they  looked  down  into  the  life,  the 
torpid  life,  of  the  old  village  that  trailed  its  homely 
yet  picturesque  street  along  by  the  venerable  build- 
ings of  the  Hospital. 

"My  good  friend,"  said  Eedclyffe,  "I  am  about 
leaving  you,  for  a  time,  —  indeed,  with  the  limited 
time  at  my  disposal,  it  is  possible  that  I  may  not  be 
able  to  come  back  hither,  except  for  a  brief  visit. 
Before  I  leave  you,  I  would  fain  know  something 
more  about  one  whom  I  must  ever  consider  my  ben- 
efactor." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  with  his  usual  benignant 
quiet,  "  I  saved  your  life.  It  is  yet  to  be  seen,  per- 
haps, whether  thereby  I  made  myself  your  benefac- 
tor. I  trust  so." 

"I  feel  it  so,  at  least,"  answered  Eedclyffe,  "and  I 
assure  you  life  has  a  new  value  for  me  since  I  came 
to  this  place  ;  for  I  have  a  deeper  hold  upon  it,  as  it 
were,  —  more  hope  from  it,  more  trust  in  something 
good  to  come  of  it." 

"  This  is  a  good  change,  —  or  should  be  so,"  quoth 
the  old  man. 

"Do  you  know,"  continued  Eedclyffe,  "how  long 
you  have  been  a  figure  in  my  life  ?  " 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         275 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Colcord,  "though  you  might  well 
have  forgotten  it." 

"  Not  so,"  said  Eedclyffe.  "  I  remember,  as  if  it 
were  this  morning,  that  time  in  New  England  when 
I  first  saw  you." 

"  The  man  with  whom  you  then  abode,"  said  Col- 
cord,  "  knew  who  I  was." 

"  And  he  being  dead,  and  finding  you  here  now, 
by  such  a  strange  coincidence,"  said  Redclyffe,  "  and 
being  myself  a  man  capable  of  taking  your  counsel,  I 
would  have  you  impart  it  to  me :  for  I  assure  you 
that  the  current  of  my  life  runs  darkly  on,  and  I 
would  be  glad  of  any  light  on  its  future,  or  even  its 
present  phase." 

"  I  am  not  one  of  those  from  whom  the  world  waits 
for  counsel,"  said  the  pensioner,  "  and  I  know  not 
that  mine  would  be  advantageous  to  you,  in  the  light 
which  men  usually  prize.  Yet  if  I  were  to  give  any, 
it  would  be  that  you  should  be  gone  hence." 

"  Gone  hence  !  "  repeated  Eedclyffe,  surprised.  "  I 
tell  you  —  what  I  have  hardly  hitherto  told  to  myself 
—  that  all  my  dreams,  all  my  wishes  hitherto,  have 
looked  forward  to  precisely  the  juncture  that  seems 
now  to  be  approaching.  My  dreaming  childhood 
dreamt  of  this.  If  you  know  anything  of  me,  you 
know  how  I  sprung  out  of  mystery,  akin  to  none,  a 
thing  concocted  out  of  the  elements,  without  visible 
agency ;  how  all  through  my  boyhood  I  was  alone ; 
how  I  grew  up  without  a  root,  yet  continually  long- 
ing for  one,  —  longing  to  be  connected  with  some- 


276        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

body,  and  never  feeling  myself  so.  Yet  there  was 
ever  a  looking  forward  to  this  time  at  which  I  now 
find  myself.  If  my  next  step  were  death,  yet  while 
the  path  seemed  to  lead  toward  a  certainty  of  estab- 
lishing me  in  connection  with  my  race,  I  would  take 
it.  I  have  tried  to  keep  down  this  yearning,  to  stifle 
it,  annihilate  it,  by  making  a  position  for  myself,  by 
being  my  own  fact ;  but  I  cannot  overcome  the  nat- 
ural horror  of  being  a  creature  floating  in  the  air, 
attached  to  nothing ;  ever  this  feeling  that  there  is 
no  reality  in  the  life  and  fortunes,  good  or  bad,  of  a 
being  so  unconnected.  There  is  not  even  a  grave,  not 
a  heap  of  dry  bones,  not  a  pinch  of  dust,  with  which 
I  can  claim  kindred,  unless  I  find  it  here  ! " 

"  This  is  sad,"  said  the  old  man,  —  "  this  strong 
yearning,  and  nothing  to  gratify  it.  Yet,  I  warn  you, 
do  not  seek  its  gratification  here.  There  are  delu- 
sions, snares,  pitfalls,  in  this  life.  I  warn  you,  quit 
the  search." 

"  No,"  said  Kedclyffe,  "  I  will  follow  the  mysterious 
clue  that  seems  to  lead  me  on;  and,  even  now,  it 
pulls  me  one  step  further." 

"  How  is  that  ? "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  It  leads  me  onward  even  as  far  as  the  threshold 
—  across  the  threshold  —  of  yonder  mansion,"  said 
Kedclyffe. 

"  Step  not  across  it ;  there  is  blood  on  that  thresh- 
old !  "  exclaimed  the  pensioner.  "  A  bloody  footstep 
emerging.  Take  heed  that  there  be  not  as  bloody  a 
one  entering  in  ! " 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         277 

"  Pshaw ! "  said  RedclyfTe,  feeling  the  ridicule  of 
the  emotion  into  which  he  had  been  betrayed,  as  the 
old  man's  wildness  of  demeanor  made  him  feel  that 
he  was  talking  with  a  monomaniac.  "  We  are  talking 
idly.  I  do  but  go,  in  the  common  intercourse  of 
society,  to  see  the  old  English  residence  which  (such 
is  the  unhappy  obscurity  of  my  position)  I  fancy, 
among  a  thousand  others,  may  have  been  that  of  my 
ancestors.  Nothing  is  likely  to  come  of  it.  My  foot 
is  not  bloody,  nor  polluted  with  anything  except  the 
mud  of  the  damp  English  soil." 

"  Yet  go  not  in  ! "  persisted  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,  I  must  go,"  said  Redclyffe,  determinedly, 
"and  I  will." 

Ashamed  to  have  been  moved  to  such  idle  utter- 
ances by  anything  that  the  old  man  could  say,^Ked- 
clyffe  turned  away,  though  he  still  heard  the  sad, 
half-uttered  remonstrance  of  the  old  man,  like  a 
moan  behind  him,  and  wondered  what  strange  fancy 
had  taken  possession  of  him. 

The  effect  which  this  opposition  had  upon  him 
made  him  the  more  aware  how  much  his  heart  was 
set  upon  this  visit  to  the  Hall ;  how  much  he  had 
counted  upon  being  domiciliated  there;  what  a  wrench 
it  would  be  to  him  to  tear  himself  away  without 
going  into  that  mansion,  and  penetrating  all  the  mys- 
teries wherewith  his  imagination,  exercising  itself 
upon  the  theme  since  the  days  of  the  old  Doctor's 
fireside  talk,  had  invested  it.  In  his  agitation  he  wan- 
dered forth  from  the  Hospital,  and,  passing  through 


278         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWWS  SECRET. 

the  village  street,  found  himself  in  the  park  of  Braith- 
waite  Hall,"  where  he  wandered  for  a  space,  until  his 
steps  led  him  to  a  point  whence  the  venerable  Hall 
appeared,  with  its  limes  and  its  oaks  around  it ;  its  look 
of  peace,  and  aged  repose,  and  loveliness ;  its  stately 
domesticity,  so  ancient,  so  beautiful ;  its  mild,  sweet 
simplicity ;  it  seemed  the  ideal  of  home.  The  thought 
thrilled  his  bosom,  that  this  was  his  home,  —  the 
home  of  the  wild  Western  wanderer,  who  had  gone 
away  centuries  ago,  and  encountered  strange  chances, 
and  almost  forgotten  his  origin,  but  still  kept  a  clue 
to  bring  him  back ;  and  had  now  come  back,  and 
found  all  the  original  emotions  safe  within  him.  It 
even  seemed  to  him,  that,  by  his  kindred  with  those 
who  had  gone  before,  —  by  the  line  of  sensitive  blood 
linking  him  with  that  final  emigrant,  —  he  could  re- 
member all  these  objects  ;  —  that  tree,  hardly  more 
venerable  now  than  then  ;  that  clock-tower,  still 
marking  the  elapsing  time ;  that  spire  of  the  old 
church,  raising  itself  beyond.  He  spread  out  his 
arms  in  a  kind  of  rapture,  and  exclaimed  :  — 

"  0  home,  my  home,  my  forefathers'  home  !  I 
have  come  back  to  thee !  The  wanderer  has  come 
back  ! " 

There  was  a  slight  stir  near  him ;  and  on  a  mossy 
seat,  that  was  arranged  to  take  advantage  of  a  remark- 
ably good  point  of  view  of  the  old  Hall,  he  saw  Elsie 
sitting.  She  had  her  drawing-materials  with  her,  and 
had  probably  been  taking  a  sketch.  Bedclyffe  was 
ashamed  of  having  been  overheard  by  any  one  giv- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         279 

ing  way  to  such  idle  passion  as  he  had  been  betrayed 
into ;  and  yet,  in  another  sense,  he  was  glad,  —  glad, 
at  least,  that  something  of  his  feeling,  as  yet  un- 
spoken to  human  being,  was  shared,  and  shared  by 
her  with  whom,  alone  of  living  beings,  he  had  any 
sympathies  of  old  date,  and  whom  he  often  thought 
of  with  feelings  that  drew  him  irresistibly  towards 
her. 

"  Elsie,"  said  he,  uttering  for  the  first  time  the 
old  name,  "  Providence  makes  you  my  confidant. 
We  have  recognized  each  other,  though  no  word  has 
passed  between  us.  Let  us  speak  now  again  with 
one  another.  How  came  you  hither  ?  What  has 
brought  us  together  again? — Away  with  this  strange- 
ness that  lurks  between  us  !  Let  us  meet  as  those 
who  began  life  together,  and  whose  life-strings,  being 
so  early  twisted  in  unison,  cannot  now  be  torn 
apart." 

"  You  are  not  wise,"  said  Elsie,  in  a  faltering  voice, 
"  to  break  the  restraint  we  have  tacitly  imposed  upon 
ourselves.  Do  not  let  us  speak  further  on  this 
subject." 

"How  strangely  everything  evades  me!"  exclaimed 
Kedclyffe.  "  I  seem  to  be  in  a  land  of  enchantment, 
where  I  can  get  hold  of  nothing  that  lends  me  a  firm 
support.  There  is  no  medium  in  my  life  between 
the  most  vulgar  realities  and  the  most  vaporous  fic- 
tion, too  thin  to  breathe.  Tell  me,  Elsie,  how  came 
you  here?  Why  do  you  not  meet  me  frankly?  What 
is  there  to  keep  you  apart  from  the  oldest  friend,  I 


280         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

am  bold  to  say,  you  have  on  earth  ?  Are  you  an 
English  girl  ?  Are  you  one  of  our  own  New  England 
maidens,  with  her  freedom,  and  her  know-how,  and 
her  force,  beyond  anything  that  these  demure  and 
decorous  damsels  can  know  ? " 
.  "This  is  wild,"  said  Elsie,  struggling  for  compos- 
ure, yet  strongly  moved  by  the  recollections  that  he 
brought  up.  "It  is  best  that  we  should  meet  as 
strangers,  and  so  part." 

"  No,"  said  Eedclyffe ;  "  the  long  past  comes  up, 
with  its  memories,  and  yet  it  is  not  so  powerful  as 
the  powerful  present.  •  We  have  met  again ;  our  ad- 
ventures have  shown  that  Providence  has  designed  a 
relation  in  my  fate  to  yours.  Elsie,  are  you  lonely  as 
lam?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  have  bonds,  ties,  a  life,  a 
duty.  I  must  live  that  life  and  do  that  duty.  You 
have,  likewise,  both.  Do  yours,  lead  your  own  life, 
like  me." 

"  Do  you  know,  Elsie,"  he  said,  "  whither  that  life 
is  now  tending  ? " 

"  Whither  ? "  said  she,  turning  towards  him. 

"  To  yonder  Hall,"  said  he. 

She  started  up,  and  clasped  her  hands  about  his 
arm. 

"  No,  no  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  go  not  thither !  There 
is  blood  upon  the  threshold !  Eeturn :  a  dreadful 
fatality  awaits  you  here." 

"  Come  with  me,  then,"  said  he,  "  and  I  yield  my 
purpose." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         281 

"  It  cannot  be,"  said  Elsie. 

"  Then  I,  too,  tell  you  it  cannot  be,"  returned  Ked- 
clyffe.2 

The  dialogue  had  reached  this  point,  when  there 
came  a  step  along  the  wood-path ;  the  branches  rus- 
tled, and  there  was  Lord  Braithwaite,  looking  upon 
the  pair  with  the  ordinary  slightly  sarcastic  glance 
with  which  he  gazed  upon  the  world. 

"A  fine  morning,  fair  lady  and  fair  sir,"  said  he. 
"  We  have  few  such,  except  in  Italy." 


282        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER   XXL 

So  Kedclyffe  left  the  Hospital,  where  he  had  spent 
many  weeks  of  strange  and  not  unhappy  life,  and 
went  to  accept  the  invitation  of  the  lord  of  Braith- 
waite  Hall.  It  was  with  a  thrill  of  strange  delight, 
poignant  almost  to  pain,  that  he  found  himself  driving 
up  to  the  door  of  the  Hall,  and  actually  passing  the 
threshold  of  the  house.  He  looked,  as  he  stept  over 
it,  for  the  Bloody  Footstep,  with  which  the  house  had 
so  long  been  associated  in  his  imagination  ;  but  could 
nowhere  see  it.  The  footman  ushered  him  into  a 
hall,  which  seemed  to  be  in  the  centre  of  the  building, 
and  where,  little  as  the  autumn  was  advanced,  a  fire 
was  nevertheless  burning  and  glowing  on  the  hearth  ; 
nor  was  its  effect  undesirable  in  the  somewhat  gloomy 
room.  The  servants  had  evidently  received  orders 
respecting  the  guest ;  for  they  ushered  him  at  once 
to  his  chamber,  which  seemed  not  to  be  one  of  those 
bachelor's  rooms,  where,  in  an  English  mansion,  young 
and  single  men  are  forced  to  be  entertained  with  very 
bare  and  straitened  accommodations;  but  a  large, 
well,  though  antiquely  and  solemnly  furnished  room, 
with  a  curtained  bed,  and  all  manner  of  elaborate 
contrivances  for  repose ;  but  the  deep  embrasures  of 
the  windows  made  it  gloomy,  with  the  little  light  that 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

they  admitted  through  their  small  panes.  There 
must  have  been  English  attendance  in  this  depart- 
ment of  the  household  arrangements,  at  least ;  for 
nothing  could  exceed  the  exquisite  nicety  and  finish 
of  everything  in  the  room,  the  cleanliness,  the  atten- 
tion to  comfort,  amid  antique  aspects  of  furniture ; 
the  rich,  deep  preparations  for  repose. 

The  servant  told  Eedclyffe  that  his  master  had  rid- 
den out,  and,  adding  that  luncheon  would  be  on  the 
table  at  two  o'clock,  left  him  ;  and  Eedclyffe  sat  some 
time  trying  to  make  out  and  distinguish  the  feelings 
with  which  he  found  himself  here,  and  realizing  a  life- 
long dream.  He  ran  back  over  all  the  legends  which 
the  Doctor  used  to  tell  about  this  mansion,  and  won- 
dered whether  this  old,  rich  chamber  were  the  one 
where  any  of  them  had  taken  place ;  whether  the 
shadows  of  the  dead  haunted  here.  But,  indeed,  if 
this  were  the  case,  the  apartment  must  have  been 
very  much  changed,  antique  though  it  looked,  with 
the  second,  or  third,  or  whatever  other  numbered  ar- 
rangement, since  those  old  days  of  tapestry  hangings 
and  rush-strewed  floor.  Otherwise  this  stately  and 
gloomy  chamber  was  as  likely  as  any  other  to  have 
been  the  one  where  his  ancestor  appeared  for  the  last 
time  in  the  paternal  mansion  ;  here  he  might  have 
been  the  night  before  that  mysterious  Bloody  Footstep 
was  left  on  the  threshold,  whence  had  arisen  so  many 
wild  legends,  and  since  the  impression  of  which 
nothing  certain  had  ever  been  known  respecting  that 
ill-fated  man,  —  nothing  certain  in  England  at  least, 


284        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

—  and  whose  story  was  left  so  ragged  and  question- 
able even  by  all  that  he  could  add. 

Do  what  he  could,  Kedclyffe  still  was  not  con- 
scious of  that  deep  honie-feeling  which  he  had 
imagined  he  should  experience  when,  if  ever,  he 
should  come  back  to  the  old  ancestral  place ;  there 
was  strangeness,  a  struggle  within  himself  to  get  hold 
of  something  that  escaped  him,  an  effort  to  impress 
on  his  mind  the  fact  that  he  was,  at  last,  established 
at  his  temporary  home  in  the  place  that  he  had  so 
long  looked  forward  to,  and  that  this  was  the  mo- 
ment which  he  would  have  thought  more  interest- 
ing than  any  other  in  his  life.  He  was  strangely  cold 
and  indifferent,  frozen  up  as  it  were,  and  fancied  that 
he  would  have  cared  little  had  he  been  to  leave  the 
mansion  without  so  much  as  looking  over  the  re- 
maining part  of  it. 

At  last,  he  became  weary  of  sitting  and  indulging 
this  fantastic  humor  of  indifference,  and  emerged 
from  his  chamber  with  the  design  of  finding  his  way 
about  the  lower  part  of  the  house.  The  mansion  had 
that  delightful  intricacy  which  can  never  be  con- 
trived ;  never  be  attained  by  design ;  but  is  the  happy 
result  of  where  many  builders,  many  designs,  —  many 
ages,  perhaps, — have  concurred  in  a  structure,  each 
pursuing  his  own  design.  Thus  it  was  a  house  that 
you  could  go  astray  in,  as  in  a  city,  and  come  to  un- 
expected places,  but  never,  until  after  much  accus- 
tomance,  go  where  you  wished ;  so  Kedclyffe,  although 
the  great  staircase  and  wide  corridor  by  which  he  had 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.        285 

been  led  to  his  room  seemed  easy  to  find,  yet  soon 
discovered  that  he  was  involved  in  an  unknown 
labyrinth,  where  strange  little  bits  of  staircases  led 
up  and  down,  and  where  passages  promised  much  in 
letting  him  out,  but  performed  nothing.  To  be  sure, 
the  old  English  mansion  had  not  much  of  the  state- 
liness  of  one  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  castles,  with  their 
suites  of  rooms  opening  one  into  another ;  but  yet  its 
Very  domesticity  —  its  look  as  if  long  ago  it  had  been 
lived  in  —  made  it  only  the  more  ghostly ;  and  so 
Eedclyffe  felt  the  more  as  if  he  were  wandering 
through  a  homely  dream ;  sensible  of  the  ludicrous- 
ness  of  his  position,  he  once  called  aloud ;  but  his 
voice  echoed  along  the  passages,  sounding  unwont- 
edly  to  his  ears,  but  arousing  nobody.  It  did  not 
seem  to  him  as  if  he  were  going  afar,  but  were 
bewildered  round  and  round,  within  a  very  small 
compass ;  a  predicament  in  which  a  man  feels  very 
foolish  usually. 

As  he  stood  at  an  old  window,  stone-mullioned,  at 
the  end  of  a  passage  into  which  he  had  come  twice 
over,  a  door  near  him  opened,  and  a  personage  looked 
out  whom  he  had  not  before  seen.  It  was  a  face  of 
great  keenness  and  intelligence,  and  not  unpleasant 
to  look  at,  though  dark  and  sallow.  The  dress  had 
something  which  Redclyffe  recognized  as  clerical, 
though  not  exactly  pertaining  to  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, —  a  sort  of  arrangement  of  the  vest  and  shirt- 
collar  ;  and  he  had  knee  breeches  of  black.  He  did 
not  seem  like  an  English  clerical  personage,  however ; 


286        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

for  even  in  this  little  glimpse  of  him  Kedclyffe  saw  a 
mildness,  gentleness,  softness,  and  asking-of-leave,  in 
his  manner,  which  he  had  not  observed  in  persons  so 
well  assured  of  their  position  as  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land clergy. 

He  seemed  at  once  to  detect  Redclyffe's  predica- 
ment, and  came  forward  with  a  pleasant  smile,  speak- 
ing in  good  English,  though  with  a  somewhat  foreign 
accent. 

"  Ah,  sir,  you  have  lost  your  way.  It  is  a  labyrin- 
thian  house  for  its  size,  this  old  English  Hall,  —  full 
of  perplexity.  Shall  I  show  you  to  any  point  ? " 

"  Indeed,  sir,"  said  Redclyffe,  laughing,  "  I  hardly 
know  whither  I  want  to  go  ;  being  a  stranger,  and 
yet  knowing  nothing  of  the  public  places  of  the 
house.  To  the  library,  perhaps,  if  you  will  be  good 
enough  to  direct  me  thither." 

"  Willingly,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  clerical  person- 
age ;  "  the  more  easily  too,  as  my  own  quarters  are 
close  adjacent ;  the  library  being  my  province.  Do 
me  the  favor  to  enter  here." 

So  saying,  the  priest  ushered  Redclyffe  into  an 
austere-looking  yet  exceedingly  neat  study,  as  it 
seemed,  on  one  side  of  which  was  an  oratory,  with  a 
crucifix  and  other  accommodations  for  Catholic  devo- 
tion. Behind  a  white  curtain  there  were  glimpses  of 
a  bed,  which  seemed  arranged  on  a  principle  of  con- 
ventual austerity  in  respect  to  limits  and  lack  of 
softness  ;  but  still  there  was  in  the  whole  austerity 
of  the  premises  a  certain  character  of  restraint,  poise, 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        287 

principle,  which  Redclyffe  liked.  A  table  was  covered 
with  books,  many  of  them  folios  in  an  antique  bind- 
ing of  parchment,  and  others  were  small,  thick-set 
volumes,  into  which  antique  lore  was  rammed  and 
compressed.  Through  an  open  door,  opposite  to  the 
one  by  which  he  had  entered,  there  was  a  vista  of  a 
larger  apartment,  with  alcoves,  a  rather  dreary-looking 
room,  though  a  little  sunshine  came  through  a  win- 
dow at  the  further  end,  distained  with  colored  glass. 

"  Will  you  sit  down  in  my  little  home  ?  "  said  the 
courteous  priest.  "  I  hope  we  may  be  better  ac- 
quainted ;  so  allow  me  to  introduce  myself.  I  am 
Father  Angelo,  domestic  chaplain  to  his  Lordship. 
You,  I  know,  are  the  American  diplomatic  gentle- 
man, from  whom  his  Lordship  has  been  expecting  a 
visit." 

Redclyffe  bowed. 

"  I  am  most  happy  to  know  you,"  continued  the 
priest.  "  Ah  ;  you  have  a  happy  country,  most  catho- 
lic, most  recipient  of  all  that  is  outcast  on  earth. 
Men  of  my  religion  must  Qver  bless  it." 

"  It  certainly  ought  to  be  remembered  to  our 
credit,"  replied  Redclyffe,  "  that  we  have  shown  no 
narrow  spirit  in  this  matter,  and  have  not,  like  other 
Protestant  countries,  rejected  the  good  that  is  found 
in  any  man  on  account  of  his  religious  faith.  Ameri- 
can statesmanship  comprises  Jew,  Catholic,  all." 

After  this  pleasant  little  acknowledgment,  there  en- 
sued a  conversation  having  some  reference  to  books  ; 
for  though  Redclyffe,  of  late  years,  had  known  little  of 


288        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

what  deserves  to  be  called  literature,  —  having  found 
political  life  as  much  estranged  from  it  as  it  is  apt  to 
be  with  politicians,  —  yet  he  had  early  snuffed  the 
musty  fragrance  of  the  Doctor's  books,  and  had  learned 
to  love  its  atmosphere.  At  the  time  he  left  college, 
he  was  just  at  the  point  where  he  might  have  been 
a  scholar ;  but  the  active  tendencies  of  American  life 
had  interfered  with  him,  as  with  thousands  of  others, 
and  drawn  him  away  from  pursuits  which  might  have 
been  better  adapted  to  some  of  his  characteristics  than 
the  one  he  had  adopted.  The  priest  gently  felt  and 
touched  around  his  pursuits,  and  finding  some  re- 
mains of  classic  culture,  he  kept  up  a  conversation 
on  these  points  ;  showing  him  the  possessions  of  the 
library  in  that  department,  where,  indeed,  were  some 
treasures  that  he  had  discovered,  and  which  seemed 
to  have  been  collected  at  least  a  century  ago. 

"  Generally,  however,"  observed  he,  as  they  passed 
from  one  dark  alcove  to  another,  "  the  library  is  of 
little  worth,  except  to  show  how  much  of  living  truth 
each  generation  contributes  to  the  botheration  of  life, 
and  what  a  public  benefactor  a  bookworm  is,  after  all. 
There,  now  !  did  you  ever  happen  to  see  one  ?  Here 
is  one  that  I  have  watched  at  work,  some  time  past, 
and  have  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  stop  him." 

Eedclyffe  looked  at  the  learned  little  insect,  who 
was  eating  a  strange  sort  of  circular  trench  into  an 
old  book  of  scholastic  Latin,  which  probably  only  he 
had  ever  devoured,  —  at  least  ever  found  to  his  taste. 
The  insect  seemed  in  excellent  condition,  fat  with 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        239 

learning,-  having  doubtless  got  the  essence  of  the 
book  into  himself.  But  Eedclyffe  was  still  more  in- 
terested in  observing  in  the  corner  a  great  spider, 
which  really  startled  him,  —  not  so  much  for  its  own 
terrible  aspect,  though  that  was  monstrous,  as  because 
he  seemed  to  see  in  it  the  very  great  spider  which  he 
had  known  in  his  boyhood  ;  that  same  monster  that 
had  been  the  Doctor's  familiar,  and  had  been  said  to 
have  had  an  influence  in  his  death.  He  looked  so 
startled  that  Father  Angelo  observed  it. 

"  Do  not  be  frightened,"  said  he  ;  "  though  I  allow 
that  a  brave  man  may  well  be  afraid  of  a  spider,  and 
that  the  bravest  of  the  brave  need  not  blush  to  shud- 
der at  this  one.  There  is  a  great  mystery  about  this 
spider.  No  one  knows  whence  he  came;  nor  how 
long  he  has  been  here.  The  library  was  very  much 
shut  up  during  the  time  of  the  last  inheritor  of  the 
estate,  and  had  not  been  thoroughly  examined  for 
some  years  when  I  opened  it,  and  swept  some  of 
the  dust  away  from  its  old  alcoves.  I  myself  was 
not  aware  of  this  monster  until  the  lapse  of  some 
weeks,  when  I  was  startled  at  seeing  him,  one  day, 
as  I  was  reading  an  old  book  here.  He  dangled 
down  from  the  ceiling,  by  the  cordage  of  his  web, 
and  positively  seemed  to  look  into  my  face." 

"  He  is  of  the  species  Condetas,"  said  Eedclyffe,  — 
"  a  rare  spider  seldom  seen  out  of  the  tropic  regions." 

"  You  are  learned,  then,  in  spiders,"  observed  the 
priest,  surprised. 

"  I  could  almost  make  oath,  at  least,  that  I  have 

19 


290        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

known  this  ugly  specimen  of  his  race,"  observed  Eed- 
clyffe.  "  A  very  dear  friend,  now  deceased,  to  whom 
I  owed  the  highest  obligations,  was  studious  of  spi- 
ders, and  his  chief  treasure  was  one  the  very  image 
of  this." 

"  How  strange  !  "  said  the  priest.  "  There  has  al- 
ways appeared  to  me  to  be  something  uncanny  in 
spiders.  I  should  be  glad  to  talk  further  with  you 
on  this  subject.  Several  times  I  have  fancied  a 
strange  intelligence  in  this  monster ;  but  I  have 
natural  horror  of  him,  and  therefore  refrain  from 
interviews." 

"  You  do  wisely,  sir,"  said  Redclyffe.  "  His  powers 
and  purposes  are  questionably  beneficent,  at  best." 

In  truth,  the  many-legged  monster  made  the  old 
library  ghostly  to  him  by  the  associations  which  it 
summoned  up,  and  by  the  idea  that  it  was  really  the 
identical  one  that  had  seemed  so  stuffed  with  poison, 
in  the  lifetime  of  the  Doctor,  and  at  that  so  distant 
spot.  Yet,  on  reflection,  it  appeared  not  so  strange  ; 
for  the  old  Doctor's  spider,  as  he  had  heard  him  say, 
was  one  of  an  ancestral  race  that  he  had  brought  from 
beyond  the  sea.  They  might  have  been  preserved, 
for  ages  possibly,  in  this  old  library,  whence  the  Doc- 
tor had  perhaps  taken  his  specimen,  and  possibly  the 
one  now  before  him  was  the  sole  survivor.  It  hardly, 
however,  made  the  monster  any  the  less  hideous  to 
suppose  that  this  might  be  the  case  ;  and  to  fancy  the 
poison  of  old  times  condensed  into  this  animal,  who 
might  have  sucked  the  diseases,  moral  and  physical, 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         291 

of  all  this  family  into  him,  and  to  have  made  himself 
their  demon.  He  questioned  with  himself  whether 
it  might  not  be  well  to  crush  him  at  once,  and  so 
perhaps  do  away  with  the  evil  of  which  he  was  the 
emblem. 

"  I  felt  a  strange  disposition  to  crush  this  monster 
at  first,"  remarked  the  priest,  as  if  he  knew  what  R-ed- 
clyffe  was  thinking  of,  —  "a  feeling  that  in  so  doing 
I  should  get  rid  of  a  mischief ;  but  then  he  is  such 
a  curious  monster.  You  cannot  long  look  at  him 
without  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  he  is  inde- 
structible." 

"  Yes  ;  and  to  think  of  crushing  such  a  deep-bow- 
elled  monster  !  "  said  Redclyffe,  shuddering.  "  It  is 
too  great  a  catastrophe." 

During  this  conversation  in  which  he  was  so  deeply 
concerned,  the  spider  withdrew  himself,  and  hand  over 
hand  ascended  to  a  remote  and  dusky  corner,  where 
was  his  hereditary  abode. 

"  Shall  I  be  likely  to  meet  Lord  Braithwaite  here 
in  the  library  ? "  asked  Redclyffe,  when  the  fiend  had 
withdrawn  himself.  "  I  have  not  yet  seen  him  since 
my  arrival." 

"  I  trust,"  said  the  priest,  with  great  courtesy, 
"that  you  are  aware  of  some  peculiarities  in  his 
Lordship's  habits,  which  imply  nothing  in  detriment 
to  the  great  respect  which  he  pays  all  his  few  guests, 
and  which,  I  know,  he  is  especially  desirous  to  pay 
to  you.  I  think  that  we  shall  meet  him  at  lunch, 
which,  though  an  English  institution,  his  Lordship 
has  adopted  very  readily." 


292         DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  I  should  hope,"  said  Kedclyffe,  willing  to  know 
how  far  he  might  be  expected  to  comply  with  the 
peculiarities  —  which  might  prove  to  be  eccentricities 
— of  his  host,  "  that  my  presence  here  will  not  be  too 
greatly  at  variance  with  his  Lordship's  habits,  what- 
ever they  may  be.  I  came  hither,  indeed,  on  the 
pledge  that,  as  my  host  would  not  stand  in  my  way, 
so  neither  would  I  in  his." 

"  That  is  the  true  principle,"  said  the  priest,  "  and 
here  comes  his  Lordship  in  person  to  begin  the  prac- 
tice of  it." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         293 


CHAPTER   XXII 

LORD  BRAITHWAITE  came  into  the  principal  door 
of  the  library  as  the  priest  was  speaking,  and  stood  a 
moment  just  upon  the  threshold,  looking  keenly  out 
of  the  stronger  light  into  this  dull  and  darksome 
apartment,  as  if  unable  to  see  perfectly  what  was  with- 
in ;  or  rather,  as  EedclyfTe  fancied,  trying  to  discover 
what  was  passing  between  those  two.  And,  indeed, 
as  when  a  third  person  comes  suddenly  upon  two 
who  are  talking  of  him,  the  two  generally  evince  in 
their  manner  some  consciousness  of  the  fact ;  so  it 
was  in  this  case,  with  Redclyffe  at  least,  although 
the  priest  seemed  perfectly  undisturbed,  either  through 
practice  of  concealment,  or  because  he  had  nothing  to 
conceal. 

His  Lordship,  after  a  moment's  pause,  came  for- 
ward, presenting  his  hand  to  Redclyffe,  who  shook  it, 
and  not  without  a  certain  cordiality ;  till  he  per- 
ceived that  it  was  the  left  hand,  when  he  probably 
intimated  some  surprise  by  a  change  of  manner. 

"I  am  an  awkward  person,"  said  his  Lordship. 
"  The  left  hand,  however,  is  nearest  the  heart ;  so  be 
assured  I  mean  no  discourtesy." 

"  The  Signor  Ambassador  and  myself,"  observed 
the  priest,  "  have  had  a  most  interesting  conversation 


294        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

(to  me  at  least)  about  books  and  bookworms,  spiders, 
and  other  congruous  matters ;  and  I  find  his  Excel- 
lency has  heretofore  made  acquaintance  with  a  great 
spider  bearing  strong  resemblance  to  the  hermit  of 
our  library." 

"  Indeed,"  said  his  Lordship.  "  I  was  not  aware 
that  America  had  yet  enough  of  age  and  old  mis- 
fortune, crime,  sordidness,  that  accumulate  with  it, 
to  have  produced  spiders  like  this.  Had  he  sucked 
into  himself  all  the  noisorneness  of  your  heat  ? " 

Bedclyffe  made  some  slight  answer,  that  the  spider 
was  a  sort  of  pet  of  an  old  virtuoso  to  whom  he  owed 
many  obligations  in  his  boyhood ;  and  the  conversa- 
tion turned  from  this  subject  to  others  suggested  by 
topics  of  the  day  and  place.  His  Lordship  was  affa- 
ble, and  Bedclyffe  could  not,  it  must  be  confessed, 
see  anything  to  justify  the  prejudices  of  the  neigh- 
bors against  him.  Indeed,  he  was  inclined  to  attrib- 
ute them,  in  great  measure,  to  the  narrowness  of  the 
English  view,  —  to  those  insular  prejudices  which  have 
always  prevented  them  from  fully  appreciating  what 
differs  from  their  own  habits.  At  lunch,  which  was 
soon  announced,  the  party  of  three  became  very 
pleasant  and  sociable,  his  Lordship  drinking  a  light 
Italian  red  wine,  and  recommending  it  to  Kedclyffe  ; 
who,  however,  was  English  enough  to  prefer  some 
bitter  ale,  while  the  priest  contented  himself  with 
pure  water,  —  which  is,  in  truth,  a  less  agreeable 
drink  in  chill,  moist  England  than  in  any  country  we 
are  acquainted  with. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.        295 

"You  must  make  yourself  quite  at  home  here," 
said  his  Lordship,  as  they  rose  from  table.  "  I  am 
not  a  good  host,  nor  a  very  genial  man,  I  believe.  I 
can  do  little  to  entertain  you ;  but  here  is  the  house 
and  the  grounds  at  your  disposal,  —  horses  in  the 
stable,  —  guns  in  the  hall,  —  here  is  Father  Angelo, 
good  at  chess.  There  is  the  library.  Pray  make  the 
most  of  them  all ;  and  if  I  can  contribute  in  any  way 
to  your  pleasure,  let  me  know." 

All  this  certainly  seemed  cordial,  and  the  manner 
in  which  it  was  said  seemed  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  words ;  and  yet,  whether  the  fault  was 
in  anything  of  morbid  suspicion  in  Redclyffe's  nature, 
or  whatever  it  was,  it  did  not  have  the  effect  of  mak- 
ing him  feel  welcome,  which  almost  every  English- 
man has  the  natural  faculty  of  producing  on  a  guest, 
when  once  he  has  admitted  him  beneath  his  roof.  It 
might  be  in  great  measure  his  face,  so  thin  and  re- 
fined, and  intellectual  without  feeling ;  his  voice 
which  had  melody,  but  not  heartiness ;  his  manners, 
which  were  not  simple  by  nature,  but  by  art;  — 
whatever  it  was,  Redclyffe  found  that  Lord  Braith- 
waite  did  not  call  for  his  own  naturalness  and  sim- 
plicity, but  his  art,  and  felt  that  he  was  inevitably 
acting  a  part  in  his  intercourse  with  him,  that  he 
was  on  his  guard,  playing  a  game ;  and  yet  he  did 
not  wish  to  do  this.  But  there  was  a  mobility,  a 
subtleness  in  his  nature,  an  unconscious  tact,  —  which 
the  mode  of  life  and  of  mixing  with  men  in  America 
fosters  and  perfects,  —  that  made  this  sort  of  finesse 


296         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

inevitable  to  him,  with  any  but  a  natural  character  ; 
with  whom,  on  the  other  hand,  Kedclyffe  could  be  as 
fresh  and  natural  as  any  Englishman  of  them  all. 

Redclyffe  spent  the  time  between  lunch  and  dinner 
in  wandering  about  the  grounds,  from  which  he  had 
hitherto  felt  himself  debarred  by  motives  of  delicacy, 
It  was  a  most  interesting  ramble  to  him,  coming  to 
trees  which  his  ancestor,  who  went  to  America,  might 
have  climbed  in  his  boyhood,  might  have  sat  beneath, 
with  his  lady-love,  in  his  youth  ;  deer  there  were,  the 
descendants  of  those  which  he  had  seen  ;  old  stone 
stiles,  which  his  foot  had  trodden.  The  sombre, 
clouded  light  of  the  day  fell  down  upon  this  scene, 
which  in  its  verdure,  its  luxuriance  of  vegetable  life, 
was  purely  English,  cultivated  to  the  last  extent 
without  losing  the  nature  out  of  a  single  thing.  In 
the  course  of  his  walk  he  came  to  the  spot  where  he 
had  been  so  mysteriously  wounded  on  his  first  arrival 
in  this  region ;  and,  examining  the  spot,  he  was  star- 
tled to  see  that  there  was  a  path  leading  to  the  other 
side  of  a  hedge,  and  this  path,  which  led  to  the  house, 
had  brought  him  here. 

Musing  upon  this  mysterious  circumstance,  and 
how  it  should  have  happened  in  so  orderly  a  country 
as  England,  so  tamed  and  subjected  to  civilization,  — 
an  incident  to  happen  in  an  English  park  which 
seemed  better  suited  to  the  Indian-haunted  forests  of 
the  wilder  parts  of  his  own  land,  —  and  how  no  re- 
searches which  the  Warden  had  instituted  had  served 
in  the  smallest  degree  to  develop  the  mystery,  —  he 


*  DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.         297 

clambered  over  the  hedge,  and  followed  the  foot- 
path. It  plunged  into  dells,  and  emerged  from  them, 
led  through  scenes  which  seemed  those  of  old  ro- 
mances, and  at  last,  by  these  devious  ways,  began  to 
approach  the  old  house,  which,  with  its  many  gray 
gables,  put  on  a  new  aspect  from  this  point  of  view. 
Eedclyffe  admired  its  venerableness  anew;  the  ivy 
that  overran  parts  of  it;  the  marks  of  age;  and 
wondered  at  the  firmness  of  the  institutions  which, 
through  all  the  changes  that  come  to  man,  could  have 
kept  this  house  the  home  of  one  lineal  race  for  so 
many  centuries ;  so  many,  that  the  absence  of  his 
own  branch  from  it  seemed  but  a  temporary  visit  to 
foreign  parts,  from  which  he  was  now  returned,  to  be 
again  at  home,  by  the  old  hearthstone. 

"  But  what  do  I  mean  to  do  ? "  said  he  to  himself, 
stopping  short,  and  still  looking  at  the  old  house. 
"  Am  I  ready  to  give  up  all  the  actual  life  before  me 
for  the  sake  of  taking  up  with  what  I  feel  to  be  a  less 
developed  state  of  human  life  ?  "Would  it  not  be  better 
for  me  to  depart  now,  to  turn  my  back  on  this  flatter- 
ing prospect  ?  I  am  not  fit  to  be  here,  —  I,  so  strongly 
susceptible  of  a  newer,  more  stirring  life  than  these 
men  lead  ;  I,  who  feel  that,  whatever  the  thought  and 
cultivation  of  England  may  be,  my  own  countrymen 
have  gone  forward  a  long,  long  march  beyond  them, 
not  intellectually,  but  in  a  way  that  gives  them  a 
further  start.  If  I  come  back  hither,  with  the  pur- 
pose to  make  myself  an  Englishman,  especially  an 
Englishman  of  rank  and  hereditary  estate,  —  then  for 


-298         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

me  America  has  been  discovered  in  vain,  and  the 
great  spirit  that  has  been  breathed  into  us  is  in  vain ; 
and  1  am  false  to  it  all ! " 

But  again  came  silently  swelling  over  him  like  a 
flood  all  that  ancient  peace,  and  quietude,  and  dig- 
nity, which  looked  so  stately  and  beautiful  as  brood- 
ing round  the  old  house;  all  that  blessed  order  of 
ranks,  that  sweet  superiority,  and  yet  with  no  dis- 
claimer of  common  brotherhood,  that  existed  between 
the  English  gentleman  and  his  inferiors ;  all  that 
delightful  intercourse,  so  sure  of  pleasure,  so  safe 
from  rudeness,  lowness,  unpleasant  rubs,  that  exists 
between  gentleman  and  gentleman,  where,  in  public 
affairs,  all  are  essentially  of  one  mind,  or  seem  so  to 
an  American  politician,  accustomed  to  the  fierce  con- 
flicts of  our  embittered  parties  ;  where  life  was  made 
so  enticing,  so  refined,  and  yet  with  a  sort  of  homeli- 
ness that  seemed  to  show  that  all  its  strength  was 
left  behind ;  that  seeming  taking  in  of  all  that  was 
desirable  in  life,  and  all  its  grace  and  beauty,  yet 
never  giving  life  a  hard  enamel  of  over-refinement. 
What  could  there  be  in  the  wild,  harsh,  ill-conducted 
American  approach  to  civilization,  which  could  com- 
pare with  this  ?  What  to  compare  with  this  juiciness 
and  richness  ?  What  other  men  had  ever  got  so  much 
out  of  life  as  the  polished  and  wealthy  Englishmen 
of  to-day  ?  What  higher  part  was  to  be  acted,  than 
seemed  to  lie  before  him,  if  he  willed  to  accept  it  ? 

He  resumed  his  walk,  and,  drawing  near  the  manor- 
house,  found  that  he  was  approaching  another  en- 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         299 

trance  than  that  which  had  at  first  admitted  him ; 
a  very  pleasant  entrance  it  was,  beneath  a  porch,  of 
antique  form,  and  ivy-clad,  hospitable  and  inviting ; 
and  it  being  the  approach  from  the  grounds,  it  seemed 
to  be  more  appropriate  to  the  residents  of  the  house 
than  the  other  one.  Drawing  near,  Eedclyffe  saw 
that  a  flight  of  steps  ascended  within  the  porch,  old- 
looking,  much  worn ;  and  nothing  is  more  suggestive 
of  long  time  than  a  flight  of  worn  steps ;  it  must  have 
taken  so  many  soles,  through  so  many  years,  to  make 
an  impression.  Judging  from  the  make  of  the  out- 
side of  the  edifice,  Eedclyffe  thought  that  he  could 
make  out  the  way  from  the  porch  to  the  hall  and 
library ;  so  he  determined  to  enter  this  way. 

There  had  been,  as  was  not  unusual,  a  little  shower 
of  rain  during  the  afternoon ;  and  as  Eedclyffe  came 
close  to  the  steps,  they  were  glistening  with  the  wet. 
The  stones  were  whitish,  like  marble,  and  one  of  them 
bore  on  it  a  token  that  made  him  pause,  while  a  thrill 
like  terror  ran  through  his  system.  For  it  was  the 
mark  of  a  footstep,  very  decidedly  made  out,  and  red, 
like  blood,  —  the  Bloody  Footstep,  —  the  mark  of  a 
foot,  which  seemed  to  have  been  slightly  impressed 
into  the  rock,  as  if  it  had  been  a  soft  substance,  at 
the  same  time  sliding  a  little,  and  gushing  with  blood. 
The  glistening  moisture  of  which  we  have  spoken 
made  it  appear  as  if  it  were  just  freshly  stamped 
there ;  and  it  suggested  to  Eedclyffe's  fancy  the  idea, 
that,  impressed  more  than  two  centuries  ago,  there 
was  some  charm  connected  with  the  mark  which  kept 


300         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

it  still  fresh,  and  would  continue  to  do  so  to  the  end 
of  time.  It  was  well  that  there  was  no  spectator 
there,  —  for  the  American  would  have  blushed  to 
have  it  known  how  much  this  old  traditionary  won- 
der had  affected  his  imagination.  But,  indeed,  it  was 
as  old  as  any  bugbear  of  his  mind  —  as  any  of  those 
bugbears  and  private  terrors  which  grow  up  with  peo- 
ple, and  make  the  dreams  and  nightmares  of  child- 
hood, and  the  fever-images  of  mature  years,  till  they 
haunt  the  deliriums  of  the  dying  bed,  and  after  that, 
possibly,  are  either  realized  or  known  no  more.  The 
Doctor's  strange  story  vividly  recurred  to  him,  and 
all  the  horrors  which  he  had  since  associated  with 
this  trace ;  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  had  now 
struck  upon  a  bloody  track,  and  as  if  there  were  other 
tracks  of  this  supernatural  foot  which  he  was  bound 
to  search  out;  removing  the  dust  of  ages  that  had 
settled  on  them,  the  moss  and  deep  grass  that  had 
grown  over  them,  the  forest  leaves  that  might  have 
fallen  on  them  in  America  —  marking  out  the  path- 
way, till  the  pedestrian  lay  down  in  his  grave. 

The  foot  was  issuing  from,  not  entering  into,  the 
house.  Whoever  had  impressed  it,  or  on  whatever 
occasion,  he  had  gone  forth,  and  doubtless  to  return 
no  more.  Eedclyffe  was  impelled  to  place  his  own 
foot  on  the  track ;  and  the  action,  as  it  were,  suggest- 
ed in  itself  strange  ideas  of  what  had  been  the  state 
of  mind  of  the  man  who  planted  it  there  ;  and  he  felt 
a  strange,  vague,  yet  strong  surmise  of  some  agony, 
some  terror  and  horror,  that  had  passed  here,  and 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         301 

would  not  fade  out  of  the  spot.  While  he  was  in 
these  musings,  he  saw  Lord  Braithwaite  looking  at 
him  through  the  glass  of  the  porch,  with  fixed,  curious 
eyes,  and  a  smile  on  his  face.  On  perceiving  that 
Redclyffe  was  aware  of  his  presence,  he  came  forth 
without  appearing  in  the  least  disturbed. 

"  What  think  you  of  the  Bloody  Footstep  ?  "  asked 
he. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  undoubtedly,"  said  Eedclyffe, 
stooping  to  examine  it  more  closely,  "  a  good  thing  to 
make  a  legend  out  of;  and,  like  most  legendary  lore, 
not  capable  of  bearing  close  examination.  I  should 
decidedly  say  that  the  Bloody  Footstep  is  a  natural 
reddish  stain  in  the  stone." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  indeed  ? "  rejoined  his  Lordship. 
"  It  may  be  ;  but  in  that  case,  if  not  the  record  of  an 
actual  deed,  —  of  a  foot  stamped  down  there  in  guilt 
and  agony,  and  oozing  out  with  unwipeupable  blood, 
-  we  may  consider  it  as  prophetic ;  —  as  forebod- 
ing, from  the  time  when  the  stone  was  squared  and 
smoothed,  and  laid  at  this  threshold,  that  a  fatal  foot- 
step was  really  to  be  impressed  here." 

"  It  is  an  ingenious  supposition,"  said  Eedclyffe. 
"  But  is  there  any  sure  knowledge  that  the  prophecy 
you  suppose  has  yet  been  fulfilled  ?  " 

"  If  not,  it  might  yet  be  in  the  future,"  said  Lord 
Braithwaite.  "  But  I  think  there  are  enough  in  the 
records  of  this  family  to  prove  that  there  did  one  cross 
this  threshold  in  a  bloody  agony,  who  has  since  re- 
turned no  more.  Great  seekings,  I  have  understood, 


302         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

have  been  had  throughout  the  world  for  him,  or  for 
any  sign  of  him,  but  nothing  satisfactory  has  been 
heard." 

"  And  it  is  now  too  late  to  expect  it,"  observed  the 
American. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  replied  the  nobleman,  with  a  glance 
that  Bedclyffe  thought  had  peculiar  meaning  in  it. 
"  Ah !  it  is  very  .curious  to  see  what  turnings  up  there 
are  in  this  world  of  old  circumstances  that  seem 
buried  forever ;  how  things  come  back,  like  echoes 
that  have  rolled  away  among  the  hills  and  been  seem- 
ingly hushed  forever.  We  cannot  tell  when  a  thing 
is  really  dead;  it  comes  to  life,  perhaps  in  its  old 
shape,  perhaps  in  a  new  and  unexpected  one ;  so  that 
nothing  really  vanishes  out  of  the  world.  I  wish  it 
did." 

The  conversation  now  ceased,  and  Kedclyffe  entered 
the  house,  where  he  amused  himself  for  some  time  in 
looking  at  the  ancient  hall,  with  its  gallery,  its  armor, 
and  its  antique  fireplace,  on  the  hearth  of  which 
burned  a  genial  fire.  He  wondered  whether  in  that 
fire  was  the  continuance  of  that  custom  which  the 
Doctor's  legend  spoke  of,  and  that  the  flame  had  been 
kept  up  there  two  hundred  years,  in  expectation  of 
the  wanderer's  return.  It  might  be  so,  although  the 
climate  of  England  made  it  a  natural  custom  enough, 
in  a  large  and  damp  old  room,  into  which  many  doors 
opened,  both  from  the  exterior  and  interior  of  the 
mansion ;  but  it  was  pleasant  to  think  the  custom  a 
traditionary  one,  and  to  fancy  that  a  booted  figure, 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         303 

enveloped  in  a  cloak,  might  still  arrive,  and  fling  open 
the  veiling  cloak,  throw  off  the  sombre  and  drooping- 
brimmed  hat,  and  show  features  that  were  similar  to 
those  seen  in  pictured  faces  on  the  walls.  "Was  he 
himself — in  another  guise,  as  Lord  Braithwaite  had 
been  saying  —  that  long-expected  one  ?  Was  his  the 
echoing  tread  that  had  been  heard  so  long  through  the 
ages  —  so  far  through  the  wide  world  —  approaching 
the  blood-stained  threshold  ? 

With  such  thoughts,  or  dreams  (for  they  were  hardly 
sincerely  enough  entertained  to  be  called  thoughts), 
Eedclyffe  spent  the  day ;  a  strange,  delicious  day,  in 
spite  of  the  sombre  shadows  that  enveloped  it.  He 
fancied  himself  strangely  wonted,  already,  to  the  house  ; 
as  if  his  every  part  and  peculiarity  had  at  once  fitted 
into  its  nooks,  and  corners,  and  crannies  ;  but,  indeed, 
his  mobile  nature  and  active  fancy  were  not  entirely 
to  be  trusted  in  this  matter;  it  was,  perhaps,  his 
American  faculty  of  making  himself  at  home  any- 
where, that  he  mistook  for  the  feeling  of  being  peculi- 
arly at  home  here. 


304        DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

EEDCLTFFE  was  now  established  in  the  great  house 
which  had  been  so  long  and  so  singularly  an  object  of 
interest  with  him.  With  his  customary  impressibility 
by  the  influences  around  him,  he  begun  to  take  in  the 
circumstances,  and  to  understand  them  by  more  sub- 
tile tokens  than  he  could  well  explain  to  himself. 
There  was  the  steward,1  or  whatever  was  his  precise 
office ;  so  quiet,  so  subdued,  so  nervous,  so  strange ! 
What  had  been  this  man's  history  ?  What  was  now 
the  secret  of  his  daily  life  ?  There  he  was,  creeping 
stealthily  up  and  down  the  staircases,  and  about  the 
passages  of  the  house ;  always  as  if  he  were  afraid  of 
meeting  somebody.  On  seeing  Redclyffe  in  the  house, 
the  latter  fancied  that  the  man  expressed  a  kind  of 
interest  in  his  face ;  but  whether  pleasure  or  pain  he 
could  not  well  tell ;  only  he  sometimes  found  that  he 
was  contemplating  him  from  a  distance,  or  from  the 
obscurity  of  the  room  in  which  he  sat,  —  or  from  a 
corridor,  while  he  smoked  his  cigar  on  the  lawn.  A 
great  part,  if  not  the  whole  of  this,  he  imputed  to  his 
knowledge  of  Redclyffe's  connections  with  the  Doctor ; 
but  yet  this  hardly  seemed  sufficient  to  account  for 
the  pertinacity  with  which  the  old  man  haunted  his 
footsteps,  —  the  poor,  nervous  old  thing,  —  always 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        305 

near  him,  or  often  unexpectedly  so ;  and  yet  appar- 
ently not  very  willing  to  hold  conversation  with  him, 
having  nothing  of  importance  to  say. 

"  Mr.  Omskirk,"  said  Redclyffe  to  him,  a  day  or  two 
after  the  commencement  of  his  visit,  "how  many 
years  have  you  now  been  in  this  situation  ? " 

"  O,  sir,  ever  since  the  Doctor's  departure  for 
America,"  said  Omskirk,  "  now  thirty  and  five  years, 
five  months,  and  three  days." 

"  A  long  time,"  said  Kedclyffe,  smiling,  "  and  you 
seem  to  keep  the  account  of  it  very  accurately." 

"  A  very  long  time,  your  honor,"  said  Omskirk ; 
"  so  long,  that  I  seem  to  have  lived  one  life  before  it 
began,  and  I  cannot  think  of  any  life  than  just  what 
I  had.  My  life  was  broken  off  short  in  the  midst ; 
and  what  belonged  to  the  earlier  part  of  it  was  an- 
other man's  life ;  this  is  mine." 

"  It  might  be  a  pleasant  life  enough,  I  should  think, 
in  this  fine  old  Hall,"  said  Kedclyffe;  "rather  monot- 
onous, however.  Would  you  not  like  a  relaxation 
of  a  few  days,  a  pleasure  trip,  in  all  these  thirty-five 
years  ?  You  old  Englishmen  are  so  sturdily  faithful 
to  one  thing.  You  do  not  resemble  my  countrymen 
in  that." 

"  O,  none  of  them  ever  lived  in  an  old  mansion- 
house  like  this,"  replied  Omskirk,  "  they  do  not  know 
the  sort  of  habits  that  a  man  gets  here.  They  do  not 
know  my  business  either,  nor  any  man's  here." 

"  Is  your  master  then,  so  difficult  ? "  said  Eedclyffe. 

"My  master!  Who  was  speaking  of  him?"  said 
20 


306        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET. 

the  old  man,  as  if  surprised.  "  Ah,  I  was  think- 
ing of  Dr.  Grimshawe.  He  was  my  master,  you 
know." 

And  Kedclyffe  was  again  inconceivably  struck  with 
the  strength  of  the  impression  that  was  made  on  the 
poor  old  man's  mind  by  the  character  of  the  old  Doc- 
tor; so  that,  after  thirty  years  of  other  service,  he 
still  felt  him  to  be  the  master,  and  could  not  in  the 
least  release  himself  from  those  earlier  bonds.  He 
remembered  a  story  that  the  Doctor  used  to  tell  of 
his  once  recovering  a  hanged  person,  and  more  and 
more  came  to  the  conclusion  that  this  was  the  man  ; 
and  that,  as  the  Doctor  had  said,  this  hold  of  a  strong 
mind  over  a  weak  one,  strengthened  by  the  idea  that 
he  had  made  him,  had  subjected  the  man  to  him  in  a 
kind  of  slavery  that  embraced  the  soul. 

And  then,  again,  the  lord  of  the  estate  interested 
him  greatly,  and  not  unpleasantly.  He  compared 
what  he  seemed  to  be  now  with  what,  according  to 
all  reports,  he  had  been  in  the  past,  and  could  make 
nothing  of  it,  nor  reconcile  the  two  characters  in  the 
least.  It  seemed  as  if  the  estate  were  possessed  by 
a  devil,  —  a  foul  and  melancholy  fiend,  —  who  re- 
sented the  attempted  possession  of  others  by  sub- 
jecting them  to  himself.  One  had  turned  from  quiet 
and  sober  habits  to  reckless  dissipation ;  another 
had  turned  from  the  usual  gayety  of  life  to  recluse 
habits,  and  both,  apparently,  by  the  same  influence  ; 
at  least,  so  it  appeared  to  Kedclyffe,  as  he  insu- 
lated their  story  from  all  other  circumstances,  and 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        307 

looked  at  them  by  one  light.  He  even  thought  that 
he  felt  a  similar  influence  coming  over  himself,  even 
in  this  little  time  that  he  had  spent  here  ;  gradually, 
should  this  be  his  permanent  residence,  —  and  not 
so  very  gradually  either,  —  there  would  come  its  own 
individual  mode  of  change  over  him.  That  quick 
suggestive  mind  would  gather  the  moss  and  lichens 
of  decay.  Palsy  of  its  powers  would  probably  be  the 
form  it  would  assume.  He  looked  back  through  the 
vanished  years  to  the  time  which  he  had  spent  with 
the  old  Doctor,  and  he  felt  unaccountably  as  if  the 
mysterious  old  man  were  yet  ruling  him,  as  he  did  in 
his  boyhood ;  as  if  his  inscrutable,  inevitable  eye  were 
upon  him  in  all  his  movements ;  nay,  as  if  he  had 
guided  every  step  that  he  took  in  coming  hither,  and 
were  stalking  mistily  before  him,  leading  him  about. 
He  sometimes  would  gladly  have  given  up  all  these 
wild  and  enticing  prospects,  these  dreams  that  had 
occupied  him  so  long,  if  he  could  only  have  gone 
away  and  looked  back  upon  the  house,  its  inmates, 
and  his  own  recollections  no  more ;  but  there  came  a 
fate,  and  took  the  shape  of  the  old  Doctor's  appari- 
tion, holding  him  back. 

And  then,  too,  the  thought  of  Elsie  had  much  influ- 
ence in  keeping  him  quietly  here ;  her  natural  sun- 
shine was  the  one  thing  that,  just  now,  seemed  to 
have  a  good  influence  upon  the  world.  She,  too,  was 
evidently  connected  with  this  place,  and  with  the 
fate,  whatever  it  might  be,  that  awaited  him  here. 
The  Doctor,  the  ruler  of  his  destiny,  had  provided 


308        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

her  as  well  as  all  the  rest ;  and  from  his  grave,  or 
wherever  he  was,  he  still  seemed  to  bring  them  to- 
gether. 

So  here,  in  this  darkened  dream,  he  waited  for 
what  should  come  to  pass ;  and  daily,  when  he  sat 
down  in  the  dark  old  library,  it  was  with  the  thought 
that  this  day  might  bring  to  a  close  the  doubt  amid 
which  he  lived,  —  might  give  him  the  impetus  to  go 
forward.  In  such  a  state,  no  doubt,  the  witchcraft  of 
the  place  was  really  to  be  recognized,  the  old  witch- 
craft, too,  of  the  Doctor,  which  he  had  escaped  by  the 
quick  ebullition  of  youthful  spirit,  long  ago,  while 
the  Doctor  lived ;  but  which  had  been  stored  up  till 
now,  till  an  influence  that  remained  latent  for  years 
had  worked  out  in  active  disease.  He  held  himself 
open  for  intercourse  with  the  lord  of  the  mansion ; 
and  intercourse  of  a.certain  nature  they  certainly  had, 
but  not  of  the  kind  which  Eedclyffe  desired.  They 
talked  together  of  politics,  of  the  state  of  the  rela- 
tions between  England  and  America,  of  the  court  to 
which  Eedclyffe  was  accredited;  sometimes  Eedclyffe 
tried  to  lead  the  conversation  to  the  family  topics, 
nor,  in  truth,  did  Lord  Braithwaite  seem  to  decline 
his  lead  ;  although  it  was  observable  that  very  speed- 
ily the  conversation  would  be  found  turned  upon 
some  other  subject,  to  which  it  had  swerved  aside  by 
subtle  underhand  movements.  Yet  Eedclyffe  was 
not  the  less  determined,  and  at  no  distant  period,  to 
bring  up  the  subject  on  which  his  mind  dwelt  so 
much,  and  have  it  fairly  discussed  between  them. 


DOCTOR    GR1MSH AWE'S   SECRET.         309 

He  was  sometimes  a  little  frightened  at  the  posi- 
tion and  circumstances  in  which  he  found  himself;  a 
great  disturbance  there  was  in  his  being,  the  causes 
of  which  he  could  not  trace.  It  had  an  influence  on 
his  dreams,  through  which  the  Doctor  seemed  to  pass 
continually,  and  when  he  awoke  it  was  often  with 
the  sensation  that  he  had  just  the  moment  before 
been  holding  conversation  with  the  old  man,  and  that 
the  latter  —  with  that  gesture  of  power  that  he  re- 
membered so  well  —  had  been  impressing  some  com- 
mand upon  him  ;  but  what  that  command  was,  he 
could  not  possibly  call  to  mind.  He  wandered  among 
the  dark  passages  of  the  house,  and  up  its  antique 
staircases,  as  if  expecting  at  every  turn  to  meet  some 
one  who  would  have  the  word  of  destiny  to  say  to 
him.  When  he  went  forth  into  the  park,  it  was  as 
if  to  hold  an  appointment  with  one  who  had  promised 
to  meet  him  there  ;  and  he  came  slowly  back,  linger- 
ing and  loitering,  because  this  expected  one  had  not 
yet  made  himself  visible,  yet  plucked  up  a  little 
alacrity  as  he  drew  near  the  house,  because  the  com- 
municant might  have  arrived  in  his  absence,  and  be 
waiting  for  him  in  the  dim  library.  It  seemed  as  if 
he  was  under  a  spell,;  he  could  neither  go  away  nor 
rest, —  nothing  but  dreams,  troubled  dreams.  He  had 
ghostly  fears,  as  if  some  one  were  near  him  whom  he 
could  not  make  out ;  stealing  behind  him,  and  start- 
ing away  when  he  was  impelled  to  turn  round.  A 
nervousness  that  his  healthy  temperament  had  never 
before  permitted  him  to  be  the  victim  of,  assailed 


310         DOCTOR    GRIMSHA  WE'S  SECRET. 

him  now.  He  could  not  help  imputing  it  partly  to 
the  influence  of  the  generations  who  had  left  a  por- 
tion of  their  individual  human  nature  in  the  house, 
which  had  become  magnetic  by  them  and  could  not 
rid  itself  of  their  presence  in  one  sense,  though,  in 
another,  they  had  borne  it  as  far  off  as  to  where  the 
gray  tower  of  the  village  church  rose  above  their 


& 
remains. 


Again,  he  was  frightened  to  perceive  what  a  hold 
the  place  was  getting  upon  him  ;  how  the  tendrils  of 
the  ivy  seemed  to  hold  him  and  would  not  let  him 
go ;  how  natural  and  homelike  (grim  and  sombre  as 
they  were)  the  old  doorways  and  apartments  were 
becoming ;  how  in  no  place  that  he  had  ever  known 
had  he  had  such  a  home-like  feeling.  To  be  sure, 
poor  fellow,  he  had  no  earlier  home  except  the  alms- 
house,  where  his  recollection  of  a  fireside  crowded  by 
grim  old  women  and  pale,  sickly  children,  of  course 
never  allowed  him  to  have  the  reminiscences  of  a 
private,  domestic  home.  But  then  there  was  the 
Doctor's  home  by  the  graveyard,  and  little  Elsie,  his 
constant  playmate?  No,  even  those  recollections  did 
not  hold  him  like  this  heavy  present  circumstance. 
How  should  he  ever  draw  himself  away  ?  No ;  the 
proud  and  vivid  and  active  prospects  that  had  here- 
tofore spread  themselves  before  him, — the  striving  to 
conquer,  the  struggle,  the  victory,  the  defeat,  if  such 
it  was  to  be,  —  the  experiences  for  good  or  ill,  —  the 
life,  life,  life,  —  all  possibility  of  these  was  passing 
from  him ;  all  that  hearty  earnest  contest  or  com- 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         311 

munion  of  man  with  man ;  and  leaving  him  nothing 
but  this  great  sombre  shade,  this  brooding  of  the 
old  family  mansion,  with  its  dreary  ancestral  hall,  its 
mouldy  dignity,  its  life  of  the  past,  its  fettering 
honor,  which  to  accept  must  bind  him  hand  and  foot, 
as  respects  all  effort,  such  as  he  had  trained  himself 
forj  —  such  as  his  own  country  offered.  It  was  not 
any  value  for  these,  —  as  it  seemed  to  Eedclyffe,  — 
but  a  witchcraft,  an  indefinable  spell,  a  something 
that  he  could  not  define,  that  enthralled  him,  and 
was  now  doing  a  work  on  him  analogous  to,  though 
different  from,  that  which  was  wrought  on  Ornskirk 
and  all  the  other  inhabitants,  high  and  low,  of  this 
old  mansion. 

He  felt  greatly  interested  in  the  master  of  the 
mansion;  although  perhaps  it  was  not  from  anything 
in  his  nature ;  but  partly  because  he  conceived  that 
he  himself  had  a  controlling  power  over  his  fortunes, 
and  likewise  from  the  vague  perception  of  this  before- 
mentioned  trouble  in  him.  It  seemed,  whatever  it 
might  be,  to  have  converted  an  ordinary  superficial 
man  of  the  world  into  a  being  that  felt  and  suffered 
inwardly,  had  pangs,  fears,  a  conscience,  a  sense  of 
unseen  things.  It  seemed  as  if  underneath  this 
manor-house  were  the  entrance  to  the  cave  of  Tro- 
phonius,  one  visit  to  which  made  a  man  sad  forever 
after ;  and  that  Lord  Braithwaite  had  been  there  once, 
or  perhaps  went  nightly,  or  at  any  hour.  Or  the 
mansion  itself  was  like  dark-colored  experience,  the 
reality ;  the  point  of  view  where  things  were  seen  in 


312        DOCTOR    GR1MSHAW&S  SECRET. 

their  true  lights  ;  the  true  world,  all  outside  of  which 
was  delusion,  and  here  —  dreamlike  as  its  structures 
seemed  —  the  absolute  truth.  All  those  that  lived 
in  it  were  getting  to  be  a  brotherhood ;  and  he 
among  them;  and  perhaps  before  the  blood-stained 
threshold  would  grow  up  an  impassable  barrier, 
which  would  cause  himself  to  sit  down  in  dreary 
quiet,  like  the  rest  of  them. 

Redclyffe,  as  has  been  intimated,  had  an  unavowed 
—  unavowed  to  himself  —  suspicion  that  the  master 
of  the  house  cherished  no  kindly  purpose  towards 
him ;  he  had  an  indistinct  feeling  of  danger  from 
him ;  he  would  not  have  been  surprised  to  know 
that  he  was  concocting  a  plot  against  his  life ;  and 
yet  he  did  not  think  that  Lord  Braithwaite  had  the 
slightest  hostility  towards  him.  It  might  make  the 
thing  more  horrible,  perhaps ;  but  it  has  been  often 
seen  in  those  who  poison  for  the  sake  of  interest, 
without  feelings  of  personal  malevolence,  that  they 
do  it  as  kindly  as  the  nature  of  the  thing  will  permit ; 
they,  possibly,  may  even  have  a  certain  degree  of  affec- 
tion for  their  victims,  enough  to  induce  them  to  make 
the  last  hours  of  life  sweet  and  pleasant ;  to  wind  up 
the  fever  of  life  with  a  double  supply  of  enjoyable 
throbs  ;  to  sweeten  and  delicately  flavor  the  cup  of 
death  that  they  offer  to  the  lips  of  him  whose  life  is 
inconsistent  with  some  stated  necessity  of  their  own. 
"  Dear  friend,"  such  a  one  might  say  to  the  friend 
whom  he  reluctantly  condemned  to  death,  "  think  not 
that  there  is  any  base  malice,  any  desire  of  pain  to 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        313 

thee,  that  actuates  me  in  this  thing.  Heaven  knows, 
I  earnestly  wish  thy  good.  But  I  have  well  consid- 
ered the  matter,  —  more  deeply  than  thou  hast,  —  and 
have  found  that  it  is  essential  that  one  thing  should 
be,  and  essential  to  that  thing  that  thou,  my  friend, 
shouldst  die.  Is  that  a  doom  which  even  thou  wouldst 
object  to  with  such  an  end  to  be  answered  ?  Thou  art 
innocent ;  thou  art  not  a  man  of  evil  life ;  the  worst 
thing  that  can  come  of  it,  so  far  as  thou  art  concerned, 
would  be  a  quiet,  endless  repos"e  in  yonder  church- 
yard, among  dust  of  thy  ancestry,  with  the  English 
violets  growing  over  thee  there,  and  the  green,  sweet 
grass,  which  thou  wilt  not  scorn  to  associate  with  thy 
dissolving  elements,  remembering  that  thy  forefather 
owed  a  debt,  for  his  own  birth  and  growth,  to  this 
English  soil,  and  paid  it  not,  —  consigned  himself  to 
that  rough  soil  of  another  clime,  under  the  forest 
leaves.  *Pay  it,  dear  friend,  without  repining,  and 
leave  me  to  battle  a  little  longer  with  this  trouble- 
some world,  and  in  a  few  years  to  rejoin  thee,  and 
talk  quietly  over  this  matter  which  we  are  now  ar- 
ranging. How  slight  a  favor,  then,  for  one  friend  to 
do  another,  will  seem  this  that  I  seek  of  thee." 

Redclyffe  smiled  to  himself,  as  he  thus  gave  expres- 
sion to  what  he  really  half  fancied  were  Lord  Braith- 
waite's  feelings  and  purposes  towards  him,  and  he  felt 
them  in  the  kindness  and  sweetness  of  his  demeanor, 
and  his  evident  wish  to  make  him  happy,  combined 
with  his  own  subtile  suspicion  of  some  design  with 
which  he  had  been  invited  here,  or  which  had  grown 
up  since  he  came. 


314         DOCTOR   GRIMSHA  WE'S  SECRET. 

Whoever  has  read  Italian  history  must  have  seen 
such  instances  of  this  poisoning  without  malice  or 
personal  ill-feeling. 

His  own  pleasant,  companionable,  perhaps  noble 
traits  and  qualities,  may  have  made  a  favorable  im- 
pression on  Lord  Braithwaite,  and  perhaps  he  regret- 
ted the  necessity  of  acting  as  he  was  about  to  do,  but 
could  not  therefore  weakly  relinquish  his  deliberately 
formed  design.  And,  on  his  part,  Eedclyffe  bore  no 
malice  towards  Lord  Braithwaite,  but  felt  really  a 
kindly  interest  in  him,  and  could  he  have  made  him 
happy  at  any  less  cost  than  his  own  life,  or  dearest 
interests,  would  perhaps  have  been  glad  to  do  so.  He 
sometimes  felt  inclined  to  remonstrate  with  him  in  a 
friendly  way ;  to  tell  him  that  his  intended  course 
was  not  likely  to  lead  to  a  good  result ;  that  they  had 
better  try  to  arrange  the  matter  on  some  other  basis, 
and  perhaps  he  would  not  find  the  American  so  un- 
reasonable as  he  supposed. 

All  this,  it  will  be  understood,  were  the  mere 
dreamy  suppositions  of  Eedclyffe,  in  the  idleness  and 
languor  of  the  old  mansion,  letting  his  mind  run  at 
will,  and  following  it  into  dim  caves,  whither  it  tended. 
He  did  not  actually  believe  anything  of  all  this  ;  un- 
less it  be  a  lawyer,  or  a  policeman,  or  some  very  vulgar 
natural  order  of  mind,  no  man  really  suspects  another 
of  crime.  It  is  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  for  a 
noble  nature  —  the  hardest  and  the  most  shocking  — 
to  be  convinced  that  a  fellow-being  is  going  to  do  a 
wrong  thing,  and  the  consciousness  of  one's  own  in- 


DOCTOR  GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.         315 

violability  renders  it  still  more  difficult  to  believe 
that  one's  self  is  to  be  the  object  of  the  wrong. 
What  he  had  been  fancying  looked  to  him  like  a 
romance.  The  strange  part  of  the  matter  was,  what 
suggested  such  a  romance  in  regard  to  his  kind  and 
hospitable  host,  who  seemed  to  exercise  the  hospital- 
ity of  England  with  a  kind  of  refinement  and  pleas- 
ant piquancy  that  came  from  his  Italian  mixture  of 
blood  ?  Was  there  no  spiritual  whisper  here  ? 

So  the  time  wore  on ;  and  Kedclyffe  began  to  be 
sensible  that  he  must  soon  decide  upon  the  course 
that  he  was  to  take  ;  for  his  diplomatic  position  wait- 
ed for  him,  and  he  could  not  loiter  many  days  more 
away  in  this  half  delicious,  half  painful  reverie  and 
quiet  in  the  midst  of  his  struggling  life.  He  was 
yet  as  undetermined  what  to  do  as  ever ;  or,  if  we 
may  come  down  to  the  truth,  he  was  perhaps  loath 
to  acknowledge  to  himself  the  determination  that  he 
had  actually  formed. 

One  day,  at  dinner,  which  now  came  on  after 
candle-light,  he  and  Lord  Braithwaite  sat  together 
at  table,  as  usual,  while  Omskirk  waited  at  the  side- 
board. It  was  a  wild,  gusty  night,  in  which  an  au- 
tumnal breeze  of  later  autumn  seemed  to  have  gone 
astray,  and  come  into  September  intrusively.  The 
two  friends — for  such  we  may  call  them  —  had  spent 
a  pleasant  day  together,  wandering  in  the  grounds, 
looking  at  the  old  house  at  all  points,  going  to  the 
church,  and  examining  the  cross-legged  stone  statues ; 
they  had  ridden,  too,  and  taken  a  great  deal  of  health- 


316        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

ful  exercise,  and  had  now  that  pleasant  sense  of  just 
weariness  enough  which  it  is  the  hoon  of  the  climate 
of  England  to  incite  and  permit  men  to  take.  Ked- 
clyffe  was  in  one  of  his  most  genial  moods,  and  Lord 
Braithwaite  seemed  to  be  the  same;  so  kindly  they 
were  both  disposed  to  one  another,  that  the  American 
felt  that  he  might  not  longer  refrain  from  giving  his 
friend  some  light  upon  the  character  in  which  he 
appeared,  or  in  which,  at  least,  he  had  it  at  his  option 
to  appear.  Lord  Braithwaite  might  or  might  not 
know  it  already ;  but  at  all  events  it  was  his  duty 
to  tell  him,  or  to  take  his  leave,  having  thus  far  nei- 
ther gained  nor  sought  anything  from  their  connec- 
tion which  would  tend  to  forward  his  pursuit  — 
should  he  decide  to  undertake  it. 

When  the  cheerful  fire,  the  rare  wine,  and  the 
good  fare  had  put  them  both  into  a  good  physical 
state,  Eedclyffe  said  to  Lord  Braithwaite, — 

"  There  is  a  matter  upon  which  I  have  been  some 
time  intending  to  speak  to  you." 

Braithwaite  nodded. 

"A  subject,"  continued  he,  "of  interest  to  both  of 
us.  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,  from  the  identity 
of  name,  that  I  may  be  really,  what  we  have  jokingly 
assumed  me  to  be,  —  a  relation  ?  " 

"It  has," 'said  Lord  Braithwaite,  readily  enough. 
"The  family  would  be  proud  to  acknowledge  such 
a  kinsman,  whose  abilities  and  political  rank  would 
add  a  public  lustre  that  it  has  long  wanted." 

Redclyffe  bowed  and  smiled. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        317 

"  You  know,  I  suppose,  the  annals  of  your  house," 
he  continued,  "  and  have  heard  how,  two  centuries 
ago,  or  somewhat  less,  there  was  an  ancestor  who 
mysteriously  disappeared.  He  was  never  seen  again. 
There  were  tales  of  private  murder,  out  of  which  a 
hundred  legends  have  come  down  to  these  days,  as  I 
have  myself  found,  though  most  of  them  in  so  strange 
a  shape  that  I  should  hardly  know  them,  had  I  not 
myself  a  clue." 

"  I  have  heard  some  of  these  legends,"  said  Lord 
Braithwaite. 

"  But  did  you  ever  hear,  among  them,"  asked  Eed- 
clyffe,  "  that  the  lost  ancestor  did  not  really  die,  — 
was  not  murdered,  —  but  lived  long,  though  in  an- 
other hemisphere,  —  lived  long,  and  left  heirs  behind 
him  ? " 

"  There  is  such  a  legend,"  said  Lord  Braithwaite. 

" Left  posterity,"  continued  Kedclyffe,  —  "a  repre- 
sentative of  whom  is  alive  at  this  day." 

"  That  I  have  not  known,  though  I  might  conjec- 
ture something  like  it,"  said  Braithwaite. 

The  coolness  with  which  he  took  this  perplexed 
Bedclyffe.  He  resolved  to  make  trial  at  once  whether 
it  were  possible  to  move  him. 

"  And  I  have  reason  to  believe,"  he  added,  "  that 
that  representative  is  myself." 

"Should  that  prove  to  be  the  case,  you  are  wel- 
come back  to  your  own,"  said  Lord  Braithwaite, 
quietly.  "  It  will  be  a  very  remarkable  case,  if  the 
proofs  for  two  hundred  years,  or  thereabouts,  can  be 


318        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

so  distinctly  made  out  as  to  nullify  the  claim  of  one 
whose  descent  is  undoubted.  Yet  it  is  certainly  not 
impossible.  I  suppose  it  would  hardly  be  fair  in  me 
to  ask  what  are  your  proofs,  and  whether  I  may  see 
them." 

"  The  documents  are  in  the  hands  of  my  agents  in 
London,"  replied  Eedclyffe ;  "  and  seem  to  be  ample, 
among  them  being  a  certified  genealogy  from  the  first 
emigrant  downward,  without  a  break.  A  declaration 
of  two  men  of  note  among  the  first  settlers,  certify- 
ing that  they  knew  the  first  emigrant,  under  a  change 
of  name,  to  be  the  eldest  son  of  the  house  of  Braith- 
waite ;  full  proofs,  at  least  on  that  head." 

"You  are  a  lawyer,  I  believe,"  said  Braithwaite, 
"  and  know  better  than  I  what  may  be  necessary  to 
prove  your  claim.  I  will  frankly  own  to  you,  that  I 
have  heard,  long  ago,  —  as  long  as  when  my  connec- 
tion with  this  hereditary  property  first  began,  —  that 
there  was  supposed  to  be  an  heir  extant  for  a  long 
course  of  years,  and  that  there  was  no  proof  that  that 
main  line  of  the  descent  had  ever  become  extinct. 
If  these  things  had  come  fairly  before  me,  and  been 
represented  to  me  with  whatever  force  belongs  to 
them,  before  my  accession  to  the  estate,  —  these  and 
other  facts  which  I  have  since  become  acquainted 
with,  —  I  might  have  deliberated  on  the  expediency 
of  coming  to  such  a  doubtful  possession.  The  prop- 
erty, I  assure  you,  is  not  so  desirable  that,  taking  all 
things  into  consideration,  it  has  much  increased  my 
happiness.  But,  now,  here  I  am,  having  paid  a  price 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         319 

in  a  certain  way,  —  which  you  will  understand,  if 
you  ever  come  into  the  property,  —  a  price  of  a  na- 
ture that  cannot  possibly  be  refunded.  It  can  hardly 
be  presumed  that  I  shall  see  your  right  a  moment 
sooner  than  you  make  it  manifest  by  law." 

"  I  neither  expect  nor  wish  it,"  replied  Eedclyffe, 
"  nor,  to  speak  frankly,  am  I  quite  sure  that  you  will 
ever  have  occasion  to  defend  your  title,  or  to  question 
mine.  When  I  came  hither,  to  be  your  guest,  it  was 
almost  with  the  settled  purpose  never  to  mention 
my  proofs,  nor  to  seek  to  make  them  manifest.  That 
purpose  is  not,  I  may  say,  yet  relinquished." 

"Yet  I  am  to  infer  from  your  words  that  it  is 
shaken  ? "  said  Braithwaite.  "  You  find  the  estate, 
then,  so  delightful,  —  this  life  of  the  old  manor-house 
so  exquisitely  agreeable,  —  this  air  so  cheering, — 
this  moral  atmosphere  so  invigorating,  —  that  your 
scruples  are  about  coming  to  an  end.  You  think 
this  life  of  an  Englishman,  this  fair  prospect  of  a 
title,  so  irresistibly  enticing  as  to  be  worth  more 
than  your  claim,  in  behalf  of  your  American  birth- 
right, to  a  possible  Presidency." 

There  was  a  sort  of  sneer  in  this,  which  Redclyffe 
did  not  well  know  how  to  understand;  and  there 
was  a  look  on  Braithwaite's  face,  as  he  said  it,  that 
made  him  think  of  a  condemned  soul,  who  should  be 
dressed  in  magnificent  robes,  and  surrounded  with  the 
mockery  of  state,  splendor,  and  happiness,  who,  if  he 
should  be  congratulated  on  his  fortunate  and  blissful 
situation,  would  probably  wear  just  such  a  look,  and 


320        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

speak  in  just  that  tone.  He  looked  a  moment  in 
Braithwaite's  face. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I  do  not  think  that  there  is 
much  happiness  in  it.  A  brighter,  healthier,  more 
useful,  far  more  satisfactory,  though  tumultuous  life 
would  await  me  in  my  own  country.  But  there  is 
about  this  place  a  strange,  deep,  sad,  brooding  interest, 
which  possesses  me,  and  draws  me  to  it,  and  will  not 
let  me  go.  I  feel  as  if,  in  spite  of  myself  and  my 
most  earnest  efforts,  I  were  fascinated  by  something 
in  the  spot,  and  must  needs  linger  here,  and  make  it 
my  home  if  I  can." 

"  You  shall  be  welcome ;  the  old  hereditary  chair 
will  be  filled  "at  last,"  said  Braithwaite,  pointing  to 
the  vacant  chair.  "  Come,  we  will  drink  to  you  in  a 
cup  of  welcome.  Take  the  old  chair  now." 

In  half-frolic  Eedclyife  took  the  chair. 

He  called  to  Omskirk  to  bring  a  bottle  of  a  par- 
ticularly exquisite  Italian  wine,  known  only  to  the 
most  deeply  skilled  in  the  vintages  of  that  country, 
and  which,  he  said,  was  oftener  heard  of  than  seen,  — 
oftener  seen  than  tasted.  Omskirk  put  it  on  the 
table  in  its  original  glass,  and  Braithwaite  filled  Eed- 
clyfle's  glass  and  his  own,  and  raised  the  latter  to  his 
lips,  with  a  frank  expression  of  his  mobile  counte- 
nance. 

"  May  you  have  a  secure  possession  of  your  estate," 
said  he,  "  and  live  long  in  the  midst  of  your  posses- 
sions. To  me,  on  the  whole,  it  seems  better  than  your 
American  prospects." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         321 

Eedclyffe  thanked  him,  and  drank  off  the  glass  of 
wine,  which  was  not  very  much  to  his  taste ;  as  new 
varieties  of  wine  are  apt  not  to  be.  All  the  conver- 
sation that  had  passed  had  been  in  a  free,  careless  sort 
of  way,  without  apparently  much  earnestness  in  it ; 
for  they  were  both  men  who  knew  how  to  keep  their 
more  serious  parts  within  them.  But  Eedclyffe  was 
glad  that  the  explanation-  was  over,  and  that  he 
might  now  remain  at  Braithwaite's  table,  under  his 
roof,  without  that  uneasy  feeling  of  treachery  which, 
whether  rightly  or  not,  had  haunted  him  hitherto. 
He  felt  joyous,  and  stretched  his  hand  out  for  the 
bottle  which  Braithwaite  kept  near  himself,  instead 
of  passing  it. 

"  You  do  not  yourself  do  justice  to  your  own  favor- 
ite wine,"  observed  Eedclyffe,  seeing  his  host's  full 
glass  standing  before  him. 

"  I  have  filled  again,"  said  Braithwaite,  carelessly ; 
"  but  I  know  not  that  I  shall  venture  to  drink  a  sec- 
ond glass.  It  is  a  wine  that  does  not  bear  mixture 
with  other  vintages,  though  of  most  genial  and  admi- 
rable qualities  when  taken  by  itself.  Drink  your 
own,  however,  for  it  will  be  a  rare  occasion  indeed 
that  would  induce  me  to  offer  you  another  bottle  of 
this  rare  stock." 

Eedclyffe  sipped  his  second  glass,  endeavoring  to 
find  out  what  was  this  subtile  and  peculiar  flavor  that 
hid  itself  so,  and  yet  seemed  on  the  point  of  revealing 
itself.  It  had,  he  thought,  a  singular  effect  upon  his 
faculties,  quickening  and  making  them  active,  and 

21 


322        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET. 

causing  him  to  feel  as  if  he  were  on  the  point  of  pen- 
etrating rare  mysteries,  such  as  men's  thoughts  are 
always  hovering  round,  and  always  returning  from. 
Some  strange,  vast,  sombre,  mysterious  truth,  which 
he  seemed  to  have  searched  for  long,  appeared  to  be 
on  the  point  of  being  revealed  to  him ;  a  sense  of 
something  to  come;  something  to  happen  that  had 
been  waiting  long,  long 'to  happen;  an  opening  of 
doors,  a  drawing  away  of  veils ;  a  lifting  of  heavy, 
magnificent  curtains,  whose  dark  folds  hung  before  a 
spectacle  of  awe ;  —  it  was  like  the  verge  of  the  grave. 
Whether  it  was  the  exquisite  wine  of  Braithwaite,  or 
whatever  it  might  be,  the  American  felt  a  strange  in- 
fluence upon  him,  as  if  he  were  passing  through  the 
gates  of  eternity,  and  finding  on  the  other  side  the  rev- 
elation of  some  secret  that  had  greatly  perplexed  him 
on  this  side.  He  thought  that  Braithwaite's  face 
assumed  a  strange,  subtile  smile,  —  not  malicious,  yet 
crafty,  triumphant,  and  at  the  same  time  terribly  sad, 
and  with  that  perception  his  senses,  his  life,  welled 
away ;  and  left  him  in  the  deep  ancestral  chair  at  the 
board  of  Braithwaite. 


DOCTOR   GRTMSHAW&S  SECRET.         323 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

WHEN  awake,1  or  beginning  to  awake,  he  lay  for 
some  time  in  a  maze ;  not  a  disagreeable  one,  but 
thoughts  were  running  to  and  fro  in  his  mind,  all 
mixed  and  jumbled  together.  Reminiscences  of  early 
days,  even  those  that  were  Preadamite;  referring,  we 
mean,  to  those  times  in  the  almshouse,  which  he 
could  not  at  ordinary  times  remember  at  all ;  but 
now  there  seemed  to  be  visions  of  old  women  and 
men,  and  pallid  girls,  and  little  dirty  boys,  which 
could  only  be  referred  to  that  epoch.  Also,  and  most 
vividly,  there  was  the  old  Doctor,  with  his  sternness, 
his  fierceness,  his  mystery ;  and  all  that  happened 
since,  playing  phantasmagoria  before  his  yet  unclosed 
eyes ;  nor,  so  mysterious  was  his  state,  did  he  know, 
when  he  should  unclose  those  lids,  where  he  should 
find  himself.  He  was  content  to  let  the  world  go  on 
in  this  way,  as  long  as  it  would,  and  therefore  did  not 
hurry,  but  rather  kept  back  the  proofs  of  awakening  ; 
willing  to  look  at  the  scenes  that  were  unrolling  for 
his  amusement,  as  it  seemed ;  and  willing,  too,  to 
keep  it  uncertain  whether  he  were  not  back  in  Amer- 
ica, and  in  his  boyhood,  and  all  other  subsequent 
impressions  a  dream  or  a  prophetic  vision.  But  at 
length  something  stirring  near  him,  —  or  whether  it 


324       DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

stirred,  or  whether  he  dreamed  it,  he  could  not  quite 
tell,  —  but  the  uncertainty  impelled  him,  at  last,  to 
open  his  eyes,  and  see  whereabouts  he  was. 

Even  then  he  continued  in  as  much  uncertainty 
as  he  was  before,  and  lay  with  marvellous  quietude 
in  it,  trying  sluggishly  to  make  the  mystery  out.  It 
was  in  a  dim,  twilight  place,  wherever  it  might  be ;  a 
place  of  half-awakeness,  where  the  outlines  of  things 
were  not  well  defined  ;  but  it  seemed  to  be  a  cham- 
ber, antique  and  vaulted,  narrow  and  high,  hung 
round  with  old  tapestry.  Whether  it  were  morning 
or  midday  he  could  not  tell,  such  was  the  character 
of  the  light,  nor  even  where  it  came  from ;  for  there 
appeared  to  be  no  windows,  and  yet  it  was  not  ap- 
parently artificial  light ;  nor  light  at  all,  indeed,  but 
a  gray  dimness.  It  was  so  like  his  own  half-awake 
state  that  he  lay  in  it  a  longer  time,  not  incited  to 
finish  his  awaking,  but  in  a  languor,  not  disagreeable, 
yet  hanging  heavily,  heavily  upon  him,  like  a  dark 
pall.  It  was,  in  fact,  as  if  he  had  been  asleep  for 
years,  or  centuries,  or  till  the  last  day  was  dawning, 
and  then  was  collecting  his  thoughts  in  such  slow 
fashion  as  would  then  be  likely. 

Again  that  noise,  —  a  little,  low,  quiet  sound,  as  of 
one  breathing  somewhere  near  him.  The  whole  tiling 
was  very  much  like  that  incident  which  introduced 
him  to  the  Hospital,  and  his  first  coming  to  his  senses 
there ;  and  he  almost  fancied  that  some  such  accident 
must  again  have  happened  to  him,  and  that  when  his 
sight  cleared  he  should  again  behold  the  venerable 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        325 

figure  of  the  pensioner.  With  this  idea  he  let  his 
head  steady  itself;  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  its  diz- 
ziness must  needs  be  the  result  of  very  long  and 
deep  sleep.  What  if  it  were  the  sleep  of  a  century  ? 
What  if  all  things  that  were  extant  when  he  went 
to  sleep  had  passed  away,  and  he  was  waking  now 
in  another  epoch  of  time  ?  Where  was  America,  and 
the  republic  in  which  he  hoped  for  such  great  things  ? 
Where  England  ?  had  she  stood  it  better  than  the 
republic  ?  Was  the  old  Hospital  still  in  being,  — 
although  the  good  Warden  must  long  since  have 
passed  out  of  his  warm  and  pleasant  life  ?  And  him- 
self, how  came  he  to  be  preserved  ?  In  what  musty 
old  nook  had  he  been  put  away,  where  Time  neglected 
and  Death  forgot  him,  until  now  he  was  to  get  up 
friendless,  helpless,  —  when  new  heirs  had  come  to 
the  estate  he  was  on  the  point  of  laying  claim  to, 
—  and  go  onward  through  what  remained  of  life  ? 
Would  it  not  have  been  better  to  have  lived  with 
his  contemporaries,  and  to  be  now  dead  and  dust 
with  them  ?  Poor,  petty  interests  of  a  day,  how 
slight ! 

Again  the  noise,  a  little  stir,  a  sort  of  quiet  moan, 
or  something  that  he  could  not  quite  define ;  but  it 
seemed,  whenever  he  heard  it,  as  if  some  fact  thrust 
itself  through  the  dream-work  with  which  he  was 
circumfused ;  something  alien  to  his  fantasies,  yet  not 
powerful  enough  to  dispel  them.  It  began  to  be  irk- 
some to  him,  this  little  sound  of  something  near  him ; 
and  he  thought,  in  the  space  of  another  hundred 


326        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

years,  if  it  continued,  he  should  have  to  arouse  him- 
self and  see  what  it  was.  But,  indeed,  there  was 
something  so  cheering  in  this  long  repose,  —  this  rest 
from  all  the  troubles  of  earth,  which  it  sometimes 
seems  as  if  only  a  churchyard  bed  would  give  us,  — 
that  he  wished  the  noise  would  let  him  alone.  But 
his  thoughts  were  gradually  getting  too  busy  for  this 
slumberous  state.  He  begun,  perforce,  to  come  nearer 
actuality.  The  strange  question  occurred  to  him, 
Had  any  time  at  all  passed  ?  Was  he  not  still  sitting 
at  Lord  Braithwaite's  table,  having  just  now  quaffed 
a  second  glass  of  that  rare  and  curious  Italian  wine  ? 
Was  it  not  affecting  his  head  very  strangely,  —  so  that 
he  was  put  out  of  time  as  it  were  ?  He  would  rally 
himself,  and  try  to  set  his  head  right  with  another 
glass.  He  must  be  still  at  table,  for  now  he  remem- 
bered he  had  not  gone  to  bed  at  all2 

Ah,  the  noise !  He  could  not  bear  it,  he  would 
awake  now,  now !  —  silence  it,  and  then  to  sleep 
again.  In  fact,  he  started  up  ;  started  to  his  feet,  in 
puzzle  and  perplexity,  and  stood  gazing  around  him, 
with  swimming  brain.  It  was  an  antique  room, 
which  he  did  not  at  all  recognize,  and,  indeed,  in  that 
dim  twilight  —  which  how  it  came  he  could  not  tell 
—  he  could  scarcely  discern  what  were  its  distinguish- 
ing marks.  But  he  seemed  to  be  sensible,  that,  in  a 
high-backed  chair,  at  a  little  distance  from  him,  sat  a 
figure  in  a  long  robe ;  a  figure  of  a  man  with  snow- 
white  hair  and  a  long  beard,  who  seemed  to  be  gazing 
at  him,  quietly,  as  if  he  had  been  gazing  a  hundred 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        327 

years.  I  know  not  what  it  was,  but  there  was  an 
influence  as  if  this  old  man  belonged  to  some  other 
age  and  category  of  man  than  he  was  now  amongst. 
He  remembered  the  old  family  legend  of  the  exist- 
ence of  an  ancestor  two  or  three  centuries  in  age. 

"  It  is  the  old  family  personified,"  thought  he. 

The  old  figure  made  no  sign,  but  continued  to  sit 
gazing  at  him  in  so  strangely  still  a  manner  that  it 
made  Eedclyffe  shiver  with  something  that  seemed 
like  affright.  There  was  an  aspect  of  long,  long  time 
about  him ;  as  if  he  had  never  been  young,  or  so  long 
ago  as  when  the  world  was  young  along  with  him. 
He  might  be  the  demon  of  this  old  house  ;  the  repre- 
sentative of  all  that  happened  in  it,  the  grief,  the  long 
languor  and  weariness  of  life,  the  deaths,  gathering 
them  all  into  himself,  and  figuring  them  in  furrows, 
wrinkles,  and  white  hairs,  —  a  being  that  might  have 
been  young,  when  those  old  Saxon  timbers  were  put 
together,  with  the  oaks  that  were  saplings  when  Caesar 
landed,  and  was  in  his  maturity  when  the  Conqueror 
came,  and  was  now  lapsing  into  extreme  age  when 
the  nineteenth  century  was  elderly.  His  garb  might 
have  been  of  any  time,  that  long,  loose  robe  that 
enveloped  him.  Redclyffe  remained  in  this  way,  gaz- 
ing at  this  aged  figure ;  at  first  without  the  least 
wonder,  but  calmly,  as  we  feel  in  dreams,  when,  being 
in  a  land  of  enchantment,  we  take  everything  as  if  it 
were  a  matter  of  course,  and  feel,  by  the  right  of  our 
own  marvellous  nature,  on  terms  of  equal  kindred 
with  all  other  marvels.  So  it  was  with  him  when  he 


328        DOCTOR  GRIMSH  AWE'S  SECRET. 

first  became  aware  of  the  old  man,  sitting  there  with 
that  age-long  regard  directed  towards  him. 

But,  by  degrees,  a  sense  of  wonder  had  its  will,  and 
grew,  slowly  at  first,  in  Eedclyffe's  mind  ;  and  almost 
twin-born  with  it,  and  growing  piece  by  piece,  there 
was  a  sense  of  awful  fear,  as  his  waking  senses  came 
slowly  back  to  him.  In  the  dreamy  state,  he  had 
felt  no  fear  ;  but,  as  a  waking  man,  it  was  fearful  to 
discover  that  the  shadowy  forms  did  not  fly  from  his 
awaking  eyes.  He  started  at  last  to  his  feet  from 
the  low  couch  on  which  he  had  all  this  time  been 


"  What  are  you  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Where  am  I  ?  " 
The.  old  figure  made  no  answer;  nor  could  Eed- 
clyffe  be  quite  sure  that  his  voice  had  any  effect  upon 
it,  though  he  fancied  that  it  was  shaken  a  little,  as  if 
his  voice  came  to  it  from  afar.  But  it  continued  to 
gaze  at  him,  or  at  least  to  have  its  aged  face  turned 
towards  him  in  the  dim  light  ;  and  this  strange  com- 
posure, and  unapproachableness,  were  very  frightful. 
As  his  manhood  gathered  about  his  heart,  however, 
the  American  endeavored  to  shake  off  this  besetting 
fear,  or  awe,  or  whatever  it  was  ;  and  to  bring  him- 
self to  a  sense  of  waking  things,  —  to  burst  through 
the  mist  and  delusive  shows  that  bewildered  him, 
and  catch  hold  of  a  reality.  He  stamped  upon  the 
floor  ;  it  was  solid  stone,  the  pavement,  or  oak  so  old 
and  stanch  that  it  resembled  it.  There  was  one 
firm  thing,  therefore.  But  the  contrast  between  this 
and  the  slipperiness,  the  unaccountableness,  of  the 


DOCTOR  GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET.         329 

rest  of  his  position,  made  him  the  more  sensible  of 
the  latter.  He  made  a  step  towards  the  old  figure ; 
another;  another.  He  was  face  to  face  with  him, 
within  a  yard  of  distance.  He  saw  the  faint  move- 
ment of  the  old  man's  breath  ;  he  sought,  through  the 
twilight  of  the  room,  some  glimmer  of  perception  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Are  you  a  living  man  ? "  asked  Redclyffe,  faintly 
and  doubtfully. 

He  mumbled,  the  old  figure,  some  faint  moaning 
sound,  that,  if  it  were  language  at  all,  had  all  the 
edges  and  angles  worn  off  it  by  decay, — unintelligi- 
ble, except  that  it  seemed  to  signify  a  faint  mournful- 
ness  and  complainingness  of  mood ;  and  then  held  his 
peace,  continuing  to  gaze  as  before.  Redclyffe  could 
not  bear  the  awe  that  filled  him,  while  he  kept  at  a 
distance,  and,  coming  desperately  forward,  he  stood 
close  to  the  old  figure ;  he  touched  his  robe,  to  see  if 
it  were  real ;  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  withered 
hand  that  held  the  staff,  in  which  he  now  recognized 
the  very  staff  of  the  Doctor's  legend.  His  fingers 
touched  a  real  hand,  though,  bony  and  dry,  as  if  it 
had  been  in  the  grave. 

"  Then  you  are  real  ? "  said  Redclyffe  doubtfully. 

The  old  figure  seemed  to  have  exhausted  itself  — 
its  energies,  what  there  were  of  them  —  in  the  effort 
of  making  the  unintelligible  communication  already 
vouchsafed.  Then  he  seemed  to  lapse  out  of  con- 
sciousness, and  not  to  know  what  was  passing,  or  to 
be  sensible  that  any  person  was  near  him.  But  Red- 


330        DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

clyffe  was  now  resuming  his  firmness  and  daylight 
consciousness  even  in  the  dimness.  He  ran  over 
all  that  he  had  heard  of  the  legend  of  the  old 
house,  rapidly  considering  whether  there  might  not 
be  something  of  fact  in  the  legend  of  the  undy- 
ing old  man ;  whether,  as  told  or  whispered  in 
the  chimney-corners,  it  might  not  be  an  instance  of 
the  mysterious,  the  half-spiritual  mode,  in  which 
actual  truths  communicate  themselves  imperfectly 
through  a  medium  that  gives  them  the  aspect  of 
falsehood.  Something  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
house  made  its  inhabitants  and  neighbors  dimly 
aware  that  there  was  a  secret  resident ;  it  was  by  a 
language  not  audible,  but  of  impression  ;  there  could 
not  be  such  a  secret  in  its  recesses,  without  making 
itself  sensible.  This  legend  of  the  undying  one  trans- 
lated it  to  vulgar  apprehension.  He  remembered 
those  early  legends,  told  by  the  Doctor,  in  his  child- 
hood ;  he  seemed  imperfectly  and  doubtfully  to  see 
what  was  their  true  meaning,  and  how,  taken  aright, 
they  had  a  reality,  and  were  the  craftily  concealed 
history  of  his  own  wrongs,  sufferings,  and  revenge. 
And  this  old  man!  who  was  he?  He  joined  the 
Warden's  account  of  the  family  to  the  Doctor's  le- 
gends. He  could  not  believe,  or  take  thoroughly  in, 
the  strange  surmise  to  which  they  led  him ;  but,  by 
an  irresistible  impulse,  he  acted  on  it. 

«  Sir  Edward  Eedclyffe  ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Ha  !  who  speaks  to  me  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
in  a  startled  voice,  like  one  who  hears  himself  called 
at  an  unexpected  moment. 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        331 

"Sir  Edward  Kedclyffe,"  repeated  Redclyffe,  "I 
bring  you  news  of  Norman  Oglethorpe  ! "  3 

"  The  villain  !  the  tyrant !  mercy  !  mercy  !  save 
me  ! "  cried  the  old  man,  in  most  violent  emotion  of 
terror  and  rage  intermixed,  that  shook  his  old  frame 
as  if  it  would  be  shaken  asunder.  He  stood  erect, 
the  picture  of  ghastly  horror,  as  if  he  saw  before  him 
that  stern  face  that  had  thrown  a  blight  over  his 
life,  and  so  fearfully  avenged,  from  youth  to  age, 
the  crime  that  he  had  committed.  The  effect,  the 
passion,  was  too  much,  —  the  terror  with  which  it 
smote,  the  rage  that  accompanied  it,  blazed  up  for  a 
moment  with  a  fierce  flame,  then  flickered  and  went 
out.  He  stood  tottering  ;  Kedclyffe  put  out  his  hand 
to  support  him  ;  but  he  sank  down  in  a  heap  on  the 
floor,  as  if  a  thing  of  dry  bones  had  been  suddenly 
loosened  at  the  joints,  and  fell  in  a  rattling  heap.4 


332        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWRS  SECRET. 


CHAPTEE   XXV. 

KEDCLYFFE,  apparently,  had  not  communicated  to 
his  agent  in  London  his  change  of  address,  when  he 
left  the  Warden's  residence  to  avail  himself  of  the 
hospitality  of  Braithwaite  Hall;  for  letters  arrived 
for  him,  from  his  own  country,  both  private  and  with 
the  seal  of  state  upon  them  ;  one  among  the  rest  that 
bore  on  the  envelope  the  name  of  the  President  of 
the  United  States.  The  good  Warden  was  impressed 
with  great  respect  for  so  distinguished  a  signature, 
and,  not  knowing  but  that  the  welfare  of  the  Republic 
(for  which  he  had  an  Englishman's  contemptuous  in- 
terest) might  be  involved  in  its  early  delivery  at  its 
destination,  lie  determined  to  ride  over  to  Braithwaite 
Hall,  call  on  his  friend,  and  deliver  it  with  his  own 
hand.  With  this  purpose,  he  mounted  his  horse,  at 
the  hour  of  his  usual  morning  ride,  and  set  forth  ; 
and,  before  reaching  the  village,  saw  a  figure  before 
him  which  he  recognized  as  that  of  the  pensioner.1 

"  Soho !  whither  go  you,  old  friend  ? "  said  the 
Warden,  drawing  his  bridle  as  he  came  up  with  the 
old  man. 

"  To  Braithwaite  Hall,  sir,"  said  the  pensioner,  who 
continued  to  walk  diligently  on ;  "  and  I  am  glad  to 
see  your  honor  (if  it  be  so)  on  the  same  errand." 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHA  WE'S  SECRET.         333 

"  Why  so  ? "  asked  the  Warden.  "  You  seem  much 
in  earnest.  Why  should  my  visit  to  Braithwaite  Hall 
be  a  special  cause  of  rejoicing  ?  " 

"Nay,"  said  the  pensioner,  "your  honor  is  spe- 
cially interested  in  this  young  American,  who  has 
gone  thither  to  abide ;  and  when  one  is  in  a  strange 
country  he  needs  some  guidance.  My  mind  is  not 
easy  about  the  young  man." 

"Well,"  said  the  Warden,  smiling  to  himself  at  the 
old  gentleman's  idle  and  senile  fears,  "  I  commend 
your  diligence  on  behalf  of  your  friend." 

He  rode  on  as  he  spoke,  and  deep  in  one  of  the 
woodland  paths  he  saw  the  flutter  of  a  woman's  gar- 
ment, and,  greatly  to  his  surprise,  overtook  Elsie, 
who  seemed  to  be  walking  along  with  great  rapidity, 
and,  startled  by  the  approach  of  hoofs  behind  her, 
looked  up  at  him,  with  a  pale  cheek. 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Elsie,"  said  the  Warden. 
"  You  are  taking  a  long  walk  this  morning.  I  regret 
to  see  that  I  have  frightened  you." 

"  Pray,  whither  are  you  going  ?  "  said  she. 

"  To  the  Hall,"  said  the  Warden,  wondering  at  the 
abrupt  question. 

"Ah,  sir,"  exclaimed  Elsie,  "for  Heaven's  sake, 
pray  insist  on  seeing  Mr.  Redclyffe,  —  take  no  excuse. 
There  are  reasons  for  it." 

"  Certainly,  fair  lady,"  responded  the  Warden,  won- 
dering more  and  more  at  this  injunction  from  such  a 
source.  "And  when  I  see  this  fascinating  gentle- 
man, pray  what  message  am  I  to  give  him  from  Miss 


334        DOCTOR   GRIMSH AWE'S  SECRET. 

Elsie,  —  who,  moreover,  seems  to  be  on  the  eve  of 
visiting  him  in  person?" 

"See  him  !  see  him  !  Only  see  him!"  said  Elsie, 
with  passionate  earnestness,  "and  in  haste  !  See  him 
now ! " 

She  waved  him  onward  as  she  spoke;  and  the 
Warden,  greatly  commoted  for  the  nonce,  complied 
with  the  maiden's  fantasy  so  far  as  to  ride  on  at  a 
quicker  pace,  uneasily  marvelling  at  what  could  have 
aroused  this  usually  shy  and  reserved  girl's  nervous- 
ness to  such  a  pitch.  The  incident  served  at  all 
events  to  titillate  his  English  sluggishness ;  so  that 
he  approached  the  avenue  of  the  old  Hall  with  a 
vague  expectation  of  something  that  had  happened 
there,  though  he  knew  not  of  what  nature  it  could 
possibly  be.  However,  he  rode  .round  to  the  side 
entrance,  by  which  horsemen  generally  entered  the 
house,  and,  a  groom  approaching  to  take  his  bridle, 
he  alighted  and  approached  the  door.  I  know  not 
whether  it  were  anything  more  than  the  glistening 
moisture  common  in  an  English  autumnal  morning ; 
but  so  it  was,  that  the  trace  of  the  Bloody  Footstep 
seemed  fresh,  as  if  it  had  been  that  very  night  im- 
printed anew,  and  the  crime  made  all  over  again, 
with  fresh  guilt  upon  somebody's  soul. 

When  the  footman  came  to  the  door,  responsive 
to  his  ring,  the  Warden  inquired  for  Mr.  Bedclyffe, 
the  American  gentleman. 

"  The  American  gentleman  left  for  London,  early 
this  morning,"  replied  the  footman,  in  a  matter-of-fact 
way. 


DOCTOR  GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        335 

"  Gone !"  exclaimed  the  Warden.  "  This  is  sudden ; 
and  strange  that  he  should  go  without  saying  good  hy. 
Gone,"  and  then  he  remembered  the  old  pensioner's 
eagerness  that  the  Warden  should  come  here,  and  El- 
sie's strange  injunction  that  he  should  insist  on  seeing 
Eedclyffe.  "  Pray,  is  Lord  Braithwaite  at  home  ? " 

"  I  think,  sir,  he  is  in  the  library,"  said  the  servant, 
"  but  will  see ;  pray,  sir,  walk  in." 

He  returned  in  a  moment,  and  ushered  the  Warden 
through  passages  with  which  he  was  familiar  of  old, 
to  the  library,  where  he  found  Lord  Braithwaite  sit- 
ting with  the  London  newspaper  in  his  hand.  He 
rose  and  welcomed  his  guest  with  great  equanimity. 

To  the  Warden's  inquiries  after  Eedclyffe,  Lord 
Braithwaite  replied  that  his  guest  had  that  morning 
left  the  house,  being  called  to  London  by  letters  from 
America ;  but  of  what  nature  Lord  Braithwaite  was 
unable  to  say,  except  that  they  seemed  to  be  of 
urgency  and  importance.  The  Warden's  further  in- 
quiries, which  he  pushed  as  far  as  was  decorous, 
elicited  nothing  more  than  this ;  and  he  was  prepar- 
ing to  take  his  leave,  —  not  seeing  any  reason  for 
insisting  (according  to  Elsie's  desire)  on  the  impossi- 
bility of  seeing  a  man  who  was  not  there,  —  nor,  in- 
deed, any  reason  for  so  doing.  And  yet  it  seemed 
very  strange  that  Eedclyffe  should  have  gone  so  un- 
ceremoniously ;  nor  was  he  half  satisfied,  though  he 
knew  not  why  he  should  be  otherwise. 

"  Do  you  happen  to  know  Mr.  Eedclyffe's  address 
in  London,"  asked  the  Warden. 


336         DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Braithwaite.  "  But  I  presume 
there  .is  courtesy  enough  iu  the  American  character 
to  impel  him  to  write  to  me,  or  both  of  us,  within  a 
day  or  two,  telling  us  of  his  whereabouts  and  what- 
ahouts.  Should  you  know,  I  beg  you  will  let  ine 
know ;  for  I  have  really  been  pleased  with  this  gen- 
tleman, and  should  have  been  glad  could  he  have 
favored  me  with  a  somewhat  longer  visit." 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said ;  and  the  War- 
den took  his  leave,  and  was  about  mounting  his 
horse,  when  he  beheld  the  pensioner  approaching  the 
house,  and  he  remained  standing  until  he  should 
come  up. 

"  You  are  too  late,"  said  he,  as  the  old  man  drew 
near.  "Our  friend  has  taken  French  leave." 

"  Mr.  Warden,"  said  the  old  man  solemnly,  "  let 
me  pray  you  not  to  give  him  up  so  easily.  Come 
with  me  into  the  presence  of  Lord  Braithwaite." 

The  Warden  made  some  objections ;  but  the  pen- 
sioner's manner  was  so  earnest,  that  he  soon  con- 
sented ;  knowing  that  the  strangeness  of  his  sudden 
return  might  well  enough  be  put  upon  the  eccentrici- 
ties of  the  pensioner,  especially  as  he  was  so  well 
known  to  Lord  Braithwaite.  He  accordingly  again 
rang  at  the  door,  which  being  opened  by  the  same 
stolid  footman,  the  Warden  desired  him  to  announce 
to  Lord  Braithwaite  that  the  Warden  and  a  pen- 
sioner desired  to  see  him.  He  soon  returned,  with  a 
request  that  they  would  walk  in,  and  ushered  them 
again  to  the  library,  where  they  found  the  master  of 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAW&S  SECRET.        337 

the  house  in  conversation  with  Omskirk  at  one  end 
of  the  apartment,  —  a  whispered  conversation,  which 
detained  him  a  moment,  after  their  arrival.  The 
Warden  fancied  that  he  saw  in  old  Omskirk's  coun- 
tenance a  shade  more  of  that  mysterious  horror  which 
made  him  such  a  bugbear  to  children;  but  when 
Braithwaite  turned  from  him  and  approached  his 
visitor,  there  was  no  trace  of  any  disturbance,  beyond 
a  natural  surprise  to  see  his  good  friend  the  Warden 
so  soon  after  his  taking  leave.2 

"  I  see  you  are  surprised,"  said  the  latter.  "  But 
you  must  lay  the  blame,  if  any,  on  our  good  old  friend 
here,  who,  for  some  reason,  best  known  to  himself, 
insisted  on  having  my  company  here." 

Braithwaite  looked  to  the  old  pensioner,  with  a 
questioning  look,  as  if  good-humoredly  (yet  not  as  if 
he  cared  much  about  it)  asking  for  an  explanation. 
As  Omskirk  was  about  leaving  the  room,  having  re- 
mained till  this  time,  with  that  nervous  look  which 
distinguished  him  gazing  towards  the  party,  the  pen- 
sioner made  him  a  sign,  which  he  obeyed  as  if  com- 
pelled to  do  so. 

"Well,  my  friend,"  said  the  Warden,  somewhat 
impatient  of  the  aspect  in  which  he  himself  ap- 
peared, "I  beg  of  you,  explain  at  once  to  Lord 
Braithwaite  why  you  have  brought  me  back  in  this 
strange  way." 

"  It  is,"  said  the  pensioner  quietly,  "  that  in  your 
presence  I  request  him  to  allow  me  to  see  Mr.  Eed- 
clyffe." 

22 


338        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

"  Why,  my  friend,"  said  Braithwaite,  "  how  can  I 
show  you  a  man  who  has  left  iny  house,  and  whom 
in  the  chances  of  tin's  life,  I  am  not  very  likely  to  see 
again,  though  hospitably  desirous  of  so  doing  ?  " 

Here  ensued  a  laughing  sort  of  colloquy  between 
the  Warden  and  Braithwaite,  in  which  the  former 
jocosely  excused  himself  for  having  yielded  to  the 
whim  of  the  pensioner,  and  returned  with  him  on  an 
errand  which  he  well  knew  to  be  futile. 

"  I  have  long  been  aware,"  he  said  apart,  in  a  con- 
fidential way,  "  of  something  a  little  awry  in  our  old 
friend's  mental  system.  You  will  excuse  him,  and 
me  for  humoring  him." 

"  Of  course,  of  course,"  said  Braithwaite,  in  the 
same  tone.  "  I  shall  not  be  moved  by  anything  the 
old  fellow  can  say." 

The  old  pensioner,  meanwhile,  had  been  as  it  were 
heating  up,  and  gathering  himself  into  a  mood  of 
energy  which  those  who  saw  him  had  never  before 
witnessed  in  his  usually  quiet  person.  He  seemed 
somehow  to  grow  taller  and  larger,  more  impressive. 
At  length,  fixing  his  eyes  on  Lord  Braithwaite,  he 
spoke  again. 

"  Dark,  murderous  man,"  exclaimed  he.  "  Your 
course  has  not  been  unwatched ;  the  secrets  of  this 
mansion  are  not  unknown.  For  two  centuries  back, 
they  have  been  better  known  to  them  who  dwell  afar 
off  than  to  those  resident  within  the  mansion.  The 
foot  that  made  the  Bloody  Footstep  has  returned 
from  its  long  wanderings,  and  it  passes  on,  straight 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.         339 

as  destiny,  —  sure  as  an  avenging  Providence,  —  to 
the  punishment  and  destruction  of  those  who  incur 
retribution." 

"  Here  is  an  odd  kind  of  tragedy,"  said  Lord  Braith- 
waite,  with  a  scornful  smile.  "  Come,  rny  old  friend, 
lay  aside  this  vein  and  talk  sense." 

"  Not  thus  do  you  escape  your  penalty,  hardened 
and  crafty  one ! "  exclaimed  the  pensioner.  "  I  de- 
mand of  you,  before  this  worthy  Warden,  access  to 
the  secret  ways  of  this  mansion,  of  which  thou  dost 
unjustly  retain  possession.  I  shall  disclose  what  for 
centuries  has  remained  hidden,  —  the  ghastly  secrets 
that  this  house  hides." 

"Humor  him,"  whispered  the  Warden,  "and  here- 
after I  will  take  care  that  the  exuberance  of  our  old 
friend  shall  be  duly  restrained.  He  shall  not  trouble 
you  again." 

Lord  Braithwaite,  to  say  the  truth,  appeared  a  little 
flabbergasted  and  disturbed  by  these  latter  expres- 
sions of  the  old  gentleman.  He  hesitated,  turned 
pale  ;  but  at  last,  recovering  his  momentary  confusion 
and  irresolution,  he  replied,  with  apparent  careless- 
ness :  — 

"  Go  wherever  you  will,  old  gentleman.  The  house 
is  open  to  you  for  this  time.  If  ever  you  have  an- 
other opportunity  to  disturb  it,  the  fault  will  be 
mine." 

"Follow,  sir,"  said  the  pensioner,  turning  to  the 
Warden  ;  "  follow,  maiden  ! 3  Now  shall  a  great  mys- 
tery begin  to  be  revealed." 


340        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET. 

So  saying,  he  led  the  way  before  them,  passing  out 
of  the  hall,  not  by  the  doorway,  but  through  one  of 
the  oaken  panels  of  the  wall,  which  admitted  the 
party  into  a  passage  which  seemed  to  pass  through 
the  thickness  of  the  wall,  and  was  lighted  by  inter- 
stices through  which  shone  gleams  of  light.  This 
led  them  into  what  looked  like  a  little  vestibule,  or 
circular  room,  which  the  Warden,  though  deeming 
himself  many  years  familiar  with  the  old  house,  had 
never  seen  before,  any  more  than  the  passage  which 
led  to  it.  To  his  surprise,  this  room  was  not  vacant, 
for  in  it  sat,  in  a  large  old  chair,  Omskirk,  like  a  toad 
in  its  hole,  like  some  wild,  fearful  creature  in  its  den, 
and  it  was  now  partly  understood  how  this  man  had 
the  possibility  of  suddenly  disappearing,  so  inscruta- 
bly, and  so  in  a  moment ;  and,  when  all  quest  for  him. 
was  given  up,  of  as  suddenly  appearing  again. 

"  Ha ! "  said  old  Omskirk,  slowly  rising,  as  at  the 
approach  of  some  event  that  he  had  long  expected. 
"  Is  he  coming  at  last  ? " 

"  Poor  victim  of  another's  iniquity,"  said  the  pen- 
sioner. "  Thy  release  approaches.  Eejoice  ! " 

The  old  man  arose  with  a  sort  of  trepidation  and 
solemn  joy  intermixed  in  his  manner,  and  bowed  rev- 
erently, as  if  there  were  in  what  he  heard  more  than 
other  ears  could  understand  in  it. 

"  Yes ;  I  have  waited  long,"  replied  he.  "  Wel- 
come ;  if  my  release  is  come." 

"  Well,"  said  Lord  Braithwaite,  scornfully.  "  This 
secret  retreat  of  my  house  is  known  to  many.  It 


DOCTOR    GRIMSHAWE'S   SECRET.         341 

was  the  priest's  secret  chamber  when  it  was  danger- 
ous to  be  of  the  old  and  true  religion,  here  in  Eng- 
land. There  is  no  longer  any  use  in  concealing  this 
place ;  and  the  Warden,  or  any  man,  might  have  seen 
it,  or  any  of  the  curiosities  of  the  old  hereditary 
house,  if  desirous  so  to  do." 

"  Alia !  son  of  Belial ! "  quoth  the  pensioner.  "And 
this,  too ! " 

He  took  three  pieces  from  a  certain  point  of  the 
wall,  which  he  seemed  to  know,  and  stooped  to  press 
upon  the  floor.  The  Warden  looked  at  Lord  Braith- 
waite,  and  saw  that  he  had  grown  deadly  pale.  What 
his  change  of  cheer  might  bode,  he  could  not  guess ; 
but,  at  the  pressure  of  the  old  pensioner's  finger,  the 
floor,  or  a  segment  of  it,  rose  like  the  lid  of  a  box,  and 
discovered  a  small  darksome  pair  of  stairs,  within 
which  burned  a  lamp,  lighting  it  downward,  like  the 
steps  that  descend  into  a  sepulchre. 

"  Follow,"  said  he,  to  those  who  looked  on,  won- 
dering. 

Aud  he  began  to  descend.  Lord  Braithwaite  saw 
him  disappear,  then  frantically  followed,  the  Warden 
next,  and  old  Omskirk  took  his  place  in  the  rear, 
like  a  man  following  his  inevitable  destiny.  At  the 
bottom  of  a  winding  descent,  that  seemed  deep  and 
remote,  and  far  within,  they  came  to  a  door,  which 
the  pensioner  pressed  with  a  spring ;  and,  passing 
through  the  space  that  disclosed  itself,  the  whole 
party  followed,  and  found  themselves  in  a  small, 
gloomy  room.  On  one  side  of  it  was  a  couch,  on 


342        DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWKS  SECRET. 

which  sat  Redclyffe ;  face  to  face  with  him  was  a 
white-haired  figure  in  a  chair. 

"  You  are  come  !"  said  Redclyffe,  solemnly.  "  But 
too  late ! " 

"And  yonder  is  the  coffer/'  said  the  pensioner. 
"Open  but  that;  and  our  quest  is  ended." 

"  That,  if  I  mistake  not,  I  can  do,"  said  Redclyffe. 

He  drew  forth  —  what  he  had  kept  all  this  time, 
as  something  that  might  yet  reveal  to  him  the  mys- 
tery of  his  birth  —  the  silver  key  that  had  been  found 
by  the  grave  in  far  New  England ;  and  applying  it 
to  the  lock,  he  slowly  turned  it  on  the  hinges,  that 
had  not  been  turned  for  two  hundred  years.  All  — 
even  Lord  Braithwaite,  guilty  and  shame-stricken  as 
he  felt  —  pressed  forward  to  look  upon  what  was 
about  to  be  disclosed.  What  were  the  wondrous 
contents  ?  The  entire,  mysterious  coffer  was  full  of 
golden  ringlets,  abundant,  clustering  through  the 
whole  coffer,  and  living  with  elasticity,  so  as  imme- 
diately, as  it  were,  to  flow  over  the  sides  of  the  coffer, 
and  rise  in  large  abundance  from  the  long  compres- 
sion. Into  this  —  by  a  miracle  of  natural  production 
which  was  known  likewise  in  other  cases  —  into  this 
had  been  resolved  the  whole  bodily  substance  of  that 
fair  and  unfortunate  being,  known  so  long  in  the 
legends  of  the  family  as  the  Beauty  of  the  Golden 
Locks.  As  the  pensioner  looked  at  this  strange  sight, 
—  the  lustre  of  the  precious  and  miraculous  hair 
gleaming  and  glistening,  and  seeming  to  add  light 
to  the  gloomy  room,  —  he  took  from  his  breast 


DOCTOR   GRIMSHAWE'S  SECRET.        343 

pocket  another  lock  of  hair,  in  a  locket,  and  com- 
pared it,  before  their  faces,  with  that  which  brimmed 
over  from  the  coffer. 

"  It  is  the  same  ! "  said  he. 

"And  who  are  you  that  know  it?"  asked  Kedclyffe, 
surprised. 

"  He  whose  ancestors  taught  him  the  secret,  —  who 
has  had  it  handed  down  to  him  these  two  centuries, 
and  now  only  with  regret  yields  to  the  necessity  of 
making  it  known." 

"  You  are  the  heir ! "  said  Eedclyffe. 

In  that  gloomy  room,  beside  the  dead  old  man, 
they  looked  at  him,  and  saw  a  dignity  beaming  on 
him,  covering  his  whole  figure,  that  broke  out  like  a 
lustre  at  the  close  of  day. 


APPENDIX. 


CHAPTER   I. 

Note  1.  The  MS.  gives  the  following  alternative  open- 
ings :  "Early  in  the  present  century";  "Soon  after  the 
Revolution"  ;  "Many  years  ago." 

Note  2.  Throughout  the  first  four  pages  of  the  MS.  the 
Doctor  is  called  "  Orraskirk,"  and  in  an  earlier  draft  of  this 
portion  of  the  romance,  "  Etheredge." 

Note  3.  Author's  note.  —  "  Crusty  Hannah  is  a  mixture 
of  Indian  and  negro." 

Note  4.  Author's  note.  —  "It  is  understood  from  the 
first  that  the  children  are  not  brother  and  sister.  —  De- 
scribe the  children  with  really  childish  traits,  quarrelling, 
being  naughty,  etc.  —  The  Doctor  should  occasionally  beat 
Ned  in  course  of  instruction." 

Note  5.  In  order  to  show  the  manner  in  whicli  Haw- 
thorne would  modify  a  passage,  which  was  nevertheless  to 
be  left  substantially  the  same,  I  subjoin  here  a  description 
of  this  graveyard  as  it  appears  in  the  earlier  draft :  "  The 
graveyard  (we  are  sorry  to  have  to  treat  of  such  a  disa- 
greeable piece  of  ground,  but  everybody's  business  centres 
there  at  one  time  or  another)  was  the  most  ancient  in  the 


346  APPENDIX. 

town.  The  dust  of  the  original  Englishmen  had  become 
incorporated  with  the  soil ;  of  those  Englishmen  whose  im- 
mediate predecessors  had  been  resolved  into  the  earth  about 
the  country  churches,  —  the  little  Norman,  square,  battle- 
mented  stone  towers  of  the  villages  in  the  old  land ;  so 
that  in  this  point  of  view,  as  holding  bones  and  dust  of 
the  first  ancestors,  this  graveyard  was  more  English  than 
anything  else  in  town.  There  had  been  hidden  from 
sight  many  a  broad,  bluff  visage  of  husbandmen  that  had 
ploughed  the  real  English  soil ;  there  the  faces  of  noted 
men,  now  known  in  history ;  there  many  a  personage 
whom  tradition  told  about,  making  wondrous  qualities  of 
strength  and  courage  for  him  ;  —  all  these,  mingled  with 
succeeding  generations,  turned  up  and  battened  down  again 
with  the  sexton's  spade  ;  until  every  blade  of  grass  was  hu- 
man more  than  vegetable,  —  for  an  hundred  and  fifty  years 
will  do  this,  and  so  much  time,  at  least,  had  elapsed  since 
the  first  little  mound  was  piled  up  in  the  virgin  soil.  Old 
tombs  there  were  too,  with  numerous  sculptures  on  them; 
and  quaint,  mossy  gravestones ;  although  all  kinds  of 
monumental  appendages  were  of  a  date  more  recent  than 
the  time  of  the  first  settlers,  who  had  been  content  with 
wooden  memorials,  if  any,  the  sculptor's  art  not  having 
then  reached  New  England.  Thus  rippled,  surged,  broke 
almost  against  the  house,  this  dreary  graveyard,  which 
made  the  street  gloomy,  so  that  people  did  not  like  to  pass 
the  dark,  high  wooden  fence,  with  its  closed  gate,  that  sep- 
arated it  from  the  street.  And  this  old  house  was  one  that 
crowded  upon  it,  and  took  np  the  ground  that  would  oth- 
erwise have  been  sown  as  thickly  with  dead  as  the  rest  of 
the  lot ;  so  that  it  seemed  hardly  possible  but  that  the 
dead  people  should  get  up  out  of  their  graves,  and  come  in 


APPENDIX.  347 

there  to  warm  themselves.  But  in  truth,  I  have  never 
heard  a  whisper  of  its  being  haunted." 

Note  6.  Author's  note.  —  "  The  spiders  are  affected  by 
the  weather  and  serve  as  barometers.  —  It  shall  always  be 
a  moot  point  whether  the  Doctor  really  believed  in  cob- 
webs, or  was  laughing  at  the  credulous." 

Note  7.  Author's  note.  —  "  The  townspeople  are  at  war 
with  the  Doctor.  —  Introduce  the  Doctor  early  as  a  smoker, 
and  describe.  —  The  result  of  Crusty  Hannah's  strangely 
mixed  breed  should  be  shown  in  some  strange  way.  —  Give 
vivid  pictures  of  the  society  of  the  day,  symbolized  in  the 
street  scenes." 


CHAPTER   II. 

Note  1.  Authors  note.  —  "Bead  the  whole  paragraph 
before  copying  any  of  it." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "Crusty  Hannah  teaches  Elsie 
curious  needlework,  etc." 

Note  3.  These  two  children  are  described  as  follows  in 
an  early  note  of  the  author's  :  "  The  boy  had  all  the  qual- 
ities fitted  to  excite  tenderness  in  those  who  had  the  care 
of  him  ;  in  the  first  and  most  evident  place,  on  account  of 
his  personal  beauty,  which  was  very  remarkable,  —  the 
most  intelligent  and  expressive  face  that  can  be  conceived, 
changing  in  those  early  years  like  an  April  day,  and  beautiful 
in  all  its  changes ;  dark,  but  of  a  soft  expression,  kindling, 
melting,  glowing,  laughing  ;  a  varied  intelligence,  which  it 
was  as  good  as  a  book  to  read.  He  was  quick  in  all  modes 
of  mental  exercise ;  quick  and  strong,  too,  in  sensibility ; 
proud,  and  gifted  (probably  by  the  circumstances  in  which 


348  APPENDIX. 

he  was  placed)  with  an  energy  which  the  softness  and 
impressibility  of  his  nature  needed.  —  As  for  the  little  girl, 
all  the  squalor  of  the  abode  served  but  to  set  off  her  light- 
someness  and  brightsomeness.  She  was  a  pale,  large-eyed 
little  thing,  and  it  might  have  been  supposed  that  the  air 
of  the  house  and  the  contiguity  of  the  burial-place  had  a 
bad  effect  upon  her  health.  Yet  I  hardly  think  this  could 
have  been  the  case,  for  she  was  of  a  very  airy  nature,  dan- 
cing and  sporting  through  the  house  as  if  melancholy  had 
never  been  made.  She  took  all  kinds  of  childish  liberties 
with  the  Doctor,  and  with  his  pipe,  and  with  everything 
appertaining  to  him  except  his  spiders  and  his  cobwebs."  — 
All  of  which  goes  to  show  that  Hawthorne  first  conceived 
his  characters  in  the  mood  of  the  "  Twice-Told  Tales,"  and 
then  by  meditation  solidified  them  to  the  inimitable  flesh- 
and-blood  of  "  The  House  of  the  Seven  Gables"  and  "The 
Blithedale  Romance." 


CHAPTER   III. 

Note  1.  An  English  church  spire,  evidently  the  proto- 
type of  this,  and  concerning  which  the  same  legend  is  told, 
is  mentioned  in  the  author's  "  English  Note-Books." 

Note  2.  Leicester  Hospital,  in  Warwick,  described  in 
"  Our  Old  Home,"  is  the  original  of  this  charity. 

Note  3.  Author's  note. —  "The  children  find  a  grave- 
stone with  something  like  a  footprint  on  it." 

Note  4.  Authors  note.  —  "  Put  into  the  Doctor's  char- 
acter a  continual  enmity  against  somebody,  breaking  out  in 
curses  of  which  nobody  can  understand  the  application." 


APPENDIX.  349 


CHAPTER   IV. 

Note  1.  The  Doctor's  propensity  for  cobwebs  is  ampli- 
fied in  the  following  note  for  an  earlier  and  somewhat 
milder  version  of  the  character :  "  According  to  him,  all 
science  was  to  be  renewed  and  established  on  a  sure  ground 
by  no  other  means  than  cobwebs.  The  cobweb  was  the 
magic  clue  by  which  mankind  was  to  be  rescued  from  all 
its  errors,  and  guided  safely  back  to  the  right.  And  so  he 
cherished  spiders  above  all  things,  and  kept  them  spin- 
ning, spinning  away ;  the  only  textile  factory  that  existed 
at  that  epoch  in  New  England.  He  distinguished  the  pro- 
duction of  each  of  his  ugly  friends,  and  assigned  peculiar 
qualities  to  each ;  and  he  had  been  for  years  engaged  in 
writing  a  work  on  this  new  discovery,  in  reference  to  which 
he  had  already  compiled  a  great  deal  of  folio  manuscript, 
and  had  nnguessed  at  resources  still  to  come.  With  this 
suggestive  subject  he  interwove  all  imaginable  learning, 
collected  from  his  own  library,  rich  in  works  that  few  oth- 
ers had  read,  and  from  that  of  his  beloved  University, 
crabbed  with  Greek,  rich  with  Latin,  drawing  into  itself, 
like  a  whirlpool,  all  that  men  had  thought  hitherto,  and 
combining  them  anew  in  such  a  way  that  it  had  all  the 
charm  of  a  racy  originality.  Then  he  had  projects  for  the 
cultivation  of  cobwebs,  to  which  end,  in  the  good  Doctor's 
opinion,  it  seemed  desirable  to  devote  a  certain  part  of  the 
national  income ;  and  not  content  with  this,  all  public- 
spirited  citizens  would  probably  be  induced  to  devote  as 
much  of  their  time  and  means  as  they  could  to  the  same 
end.  According  to  him,  there  was  no  such  beautiful  fes- 
toon and  drapery  for  the  halls  of  princes  as  the  spinning 


350  APPENDIX. 

of  this  heretofore  despised  and  hated  insect ;  and  by  due 
encouragement  it  might  be  hoped  that  they  would  flourish, 
and  hang  and  dangle  and  wave  triumphant  in  the  breeze, 
to  an  extent  as  yet  generally  undreamed  of.  And  he  la- 
mented much  the  destruction  that  has  heretofore  been 
wrought  upon  this  precious  fabric  by  the  housemaid's 
broom,  and  insisted  upon  by  foolish  women  who  claimed 
to  be  good  housewives.  Indeed,  it  was  the  general  opin- 
ion that  the  Doctor's  celibacy  was  in  great  measure  due  to 
the  impossibility  of  finding  a  woman  who  would  pledge 
herself  to  co-operate  with  him  in  this  great  ambition  of  his 
life,  —  that  of  reducing  the  world  to  a  cobweb  factory; 
or  who  would  bind  herself  to  let  her  own  drawing-room  be 
ornamented  with  this  kind  of  tapestry.  But  there  never 
was  a  wife  precisely  fitted  for  our  friend  the  Doctor,  unless 
it  had  been  Arachne  herself,  to  whom,  if  she  could  again 
have  been  restored  to  her  female  shape,  he  would  doubtless 
have  lost  no  time  in  paying  his  addresses.  It  was  doubt- 
less the  having  dwelt  too  long  among  the  musty  and  dusty 
clutter  and  litter  of  things  gone  by,  that  made  the  Doctor 
almost  a  monomaniac  on  this  subject.  There  were  cob- 
webs in  his  own  brain,  and  so  he  saw  nothing  valuable  but 
cobwebs  in  the  world  around  him;  and  deemed  that  the 
march  of  created  things,  up  to  this  time,  had  been  calcu- 
lated by  foreknowledge  to  produce  them." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "Ned  must  learn  something 
of  the  characteristics  of  the  Catechism,  and  simple  cottage 
devotion." 


APPENDIX.  351 


CHAPTER   V. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "Make  the  following  scene 
emblematic  of  the  world's  treatment  of  a  dissenter." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  Yankee  characteristics  should 
be  shown  in  the  schoolmaster's  manners." 


CHAPTER   VI. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "He  had  a  sort  of  horror  of 
violence,  and  of  the  strangeness  that  it  should  be  done  to 
him ;  this  affected  him  more  than  the  blow." 

Note  2.  Authors  note.  —  "  Jokes  occasionally  about  the 
schoolmaster's  thinness  and  lightness,  —  how  he  might  sus- 
pend himself  from  the  spider's  web  and  swing,  etc." 

Note  3.  Author's  note.  —  "  The  Doctor  and  the  School- 
master should  have  much  talk  about  England." 

Note  4.  Author's  note.  —  "  The  children  were  at  play  in 
the  churchyard." 

Note  5.  Author's  note.  —  "  He  mentions  that  he  was 
probably  buried  in  the  churchyard  there." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "  Perhaps  put  this  narratively, 
not  as  spoken." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "He  was  privately  married 
to  the  heiress,  if  she  were  an  heiress.  They  meant  to 


352  APPENDIX. 

kill  him  in  the  wood,  but,  by  contrivance,  he  was  kid- 
napped." 

Note  3.  Author's  note.  —  "They  were  privately  mar- 
ried." 

Note  4.  Author's  note.  —  "  Old  descriptive  letters,  refer- 
ring to  localities  as  they  existed." 

Note  5.  Author's  note.  —  "There  should  be  symbols 
and  tokens,  hinting  at  the  schoolmaster's  disappearance, 
from  the  first  opening  of  the  scene." 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

Note  1.  Authors  note.  —  "They  had  got  up  in  remarka- 
bly good  case  that  morning." 

Note  2.  Authors  note.  —  "  The  stranger  may  be  the  fu- 
ture master  of  the  Hospital.  —  Describe  the  winter  day." 

Note  3.     Author's  note.  —  "  Describe  him  as  clerical." 

Note  4.  Authors  note.  —  " Represent  him  as  a  refined, 
agreeable,  genial  young  man,  of  frank,  kindly,  gentlemanly 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "  Make  the  old  grave-digger  a 
laudator  temporis  acti,  —  especially  as  to  burial  customs." 

Note  2.  Instead  of  "written,"  as  in  the  text,  the  author 
probably  meant  to  write  "read." 

Note  3.     Evidently  "  delight "  should  read  "  a  light." 

Note  4.  Author's  note.  —  "He  aims  a  blow,  perhaps 
with  his  pipe,  at  the  boy,  which  Ned  wards  off." 


APPENDIX.  353 


CHAPTER   X. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "  No  longer  could  play  at 
quarter-staff  with  Ned." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  " Referring  to  places  and  peo- 
ple in  England  :  the  Bloody  Footstep  sometimes." 

Note  3.  In  the  original  the  following  occurs,  but  marked 
to  indicate  that  it  was  to  be  omitted:  "And  kissed  his 
hand  to  her,  and  laughed  feebly ;  and  that  was  the  last  that 
she  or  anybody,  the  last  glimpse  they  had  of  Doctor  Grim- 
shawe  alive." 

Note  4.  Author's  notes.  —  "  A  great  deal  must  be  made 
out  of  the  spiders,  and  their  gloomy,  dusky,  flaunting  tap- 
estry. A  web  across  the  orifice  of  his  inkstand  every  morn- 
ing; everywhere, 'indeed,  except  across  the  snout  of  his 
brandy-bottle.  —  Depict  the  Doctor  in  an  old  dressing- 
gown,  and  a  strange  sort  of  a  cap,  like  a  wizard's.  —  The 
two  children  are  witnesses  of  many  strange  experiments  in 
the  study  j  they  see  his  moods,  too.  —  The  Doctor  is  sup- 
posed to  be  writing  a  work  on  the  Natural  History  of  Spi- 
ders. Perhaps  he  used  them  as  a  blind  for  his  real  project, 
and  used  to  bamboozle  the  learned  with  pretending  to  read 
them  passages  in  which  great  learning  seemed  to  be  elabo- 
rately worked  up,  crabbed  with  Greek  and  Latin,  as  if  the 
topic  drew  into  itself,  like  a  whirlpool,  all  that  men  thought 
and  knew;  plans  to  cultivate  cobwebs  on  a  large  scale. 
Sometimes,  after  overwhelming  them  with  astonishment  in 
this  way,  he  would  burst  into  one  of  his  laughs.  Schemes 
to  make  the  world  a  cobweb-factory,  etc.,  etc.  Cobwebs  in 
his  own  brain.  —  Crusty  Hannah  such  a  mixture  of  persons 
and  races  as  could  be  found  only  at  a  seaport.  There  was 

23 


354  APPENDIX. 

a  rumor  that  the  Doctor  had  murdered  a  former  maid,  for 
having,  with  housewifely  instinct,  swept  away  the  cobwebs ; 
some  said  that  he  had  her  skeleton  in  a  closet.  Some  said 
that  he  had  strangled  a  wife  with  web  of  the  great  spider. 

—  Read  the  description  of  Bolton  Hall,  the  garden,  lawn, 
etc.,  Aug.  8,  '53. — Bebbington  church   and  churchyard, 
Aug.  29,  '53.  —  The  Doctor  is  able  to  love,  — able  to  hate  ; 
two  great  and  rare  abilities  nowadays.  —  Introduce  two 
pine  trees,  ivy-grown,  as  at  Lowwood  Hotel,  July  16,  '58. 

—  The  family  name  might  be  Redclyft'e.  —  Thatched  cot- 
tage, June  22,  '55.  —  Early  introduce  the  mention  of  the 
cognizance  of  the  family,  —  the  Leopard's  Head,  for  in- 
stance, in  the  first  part  of  the  romance ;  the  Doctor  may 
have  possessed  it  engraved  as  coat  of  arms  in  a  book. — 
The  Doctor  shall  show  Ned,  perhaps,  a  drawing  or  engrav- 
ing of  the  Hospital,  with  figures  of  thG  pensioners  in  the 
quadrangle,  fitly  dressed ;  and  this  picture  and  the  figures 
shall  impress  themselves  strongly  on  his  memory." 

The  above  dates  and  places  refer  to  passages  in  the  pub- 
lished "  English  IsTote-Books." 


CHAPTER   XL 

Note\.  Author's  note.  —  "Compare  it  with  Spenser's 
Cave  of  Despair.  Put  instruments  of  suicide  there." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  Once,  in  looking  at  the  man- 
sion, Redclyffe  is  struck  by  the  appearance  of  a  marble 
inserted  into  the  wall,  and  kept  clear  of  lichens." 

Note  3.  Authors  note.  —  "  Describe,  in  rich  poetry,  all 
shapes  of  deadly  things." 


APPENDIX.  355 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Note  I.  Author's  note.  —  "Conferred  their  best  quali- 
ties "  :  an  alternative  phrase  for  "  done  their  utmost." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  Let  the  old  man  have  a 
beard  as  part  of  the  costume." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "Describe  him  as  delirious, 
and  the  scene  as  adopted  into  his  delirium." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  Make  the  whole  scene  very 
dreamlike  and  feverish." 

Note  3.  Author's  note.  —  "There  should  be  a  slight 
wildness  in  the  patient's  remark  to  the  surgeon,  which  he 
cannot  prevent,  though  he  is  conscious  of  it." 

Note  4.  Authors  note.  —  "Notice  the  peculiar  depth 
and  intelligence  of  his  eyes,  on  account  of  his  pain  and 
sickness." 

Note  5.  Author's  note.  —  "  Perhaps  the  recognition  of 
the  pensioner  should  not  be  so  decided.  Redclyffe  thinks 
it  is  he,  but  thinks  it  as  in  a  dream,  without  wonder  or  in- 
quiry ;  and  the  pensioner  does  not  quite  acknowledge  it." 

Note  6.  The  following  dialogue  is  marked  to  be  omit- 
ted or  modified  in  the  original  MS.;  but  it  is  retained 
here,  in  order  that  the  thread  of  the  narrative  may  not 
be  broken. 

Note  7.  Author's  note.  —  "The  patient,  as  he  gets  bet- 
ter, listens  to  the  feet  of  old  people  moving  in  corridors ; 


356  APPENDIX. 

to  the  ringing  of  a  bell  at  stated  periods ;  to  old,  tremu- 
lous voices  talking  in  the  quadrangle ;  etc.,  etc." 

Note  8.  At  this  point  the  modification  indicated  in 
Note  5  seems  to  have  been  made  operative :  and  the  rec- 
ognition takes  place  in  another  way. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Note  1.  This  paragraph  is  left  incomplete  in  the  origi- 
nal MS. 

Note  2.  The  words  "  Eich  old  bindings  "  are  interlined 
here,  indicating,  perhaps,  a  purpose  to  give  a  more  detailed 
description  of  the  library  and  its  contents. 


CHAPTER  XV.  . 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "I  think  it  shall  be  built  of 
stone,  however." 

Note  2.  This  probably  refers  to  some  incident  which 
the  author  intended  to  incorporate  in  the  former  portion  of 
the  romance,  on  a  final  revision. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Note  1.  Several  passages,  which  are  essentially  repro- 
ductions of  what  had  been  previously  treated,  are  omitted 
from  this  chapter.  It  belongs  to  an  earlier  version  of  the 
romance. 


APPENDIX.  357 

CHAPTEE  XVII. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "  Redclyffe  shows  how  to  find, 
under  the  surface  of  the  village  green,  an  old  cross." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "A  circular  seat  around  the 
tree." 

Note  3.  The  reader  now  hears  for  the  first  time  what 
RedclyfFe  recollected. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "The  dinner  is  given  to  the 
pensioners,  as  well  as  to  the  gentry,  I  think." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  For  example,  a  story  of  three 
brothers,  who  had  a  deadly  quarrel  among  them  more  than 
two  hundred  years  ago  for  the  affections  of  a  young  lady, 
their  cousin,  who  gave  her  reciprocal  love  to  one  of  them, 
who  immediately  became  the  object  of  the  deadly  hatred 
of  the  two  others.  There  seemed  to  be  madness  in  their 
love ;  perhaps  madness  in  the  love  of  all  three ;  for  the 
result  had  been  a  plot  to  kidnap  this  unfortunate  young 
man  and  convey  him  to  America,  where  he  was  sold  for  a 
servant." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Note  1.  The  following  passage,  though  it  seems  to  fit 
in  here  chronologically,  is  concerned  with  a  side  issue  which 
was  not  followed  up.  The  author  was  experimenting  for 
a  character  to  act  as  the  accomplice  of  Lord  Braithwaite  at 
the  Hall ;  and  he  makes  trial  of  the  present  personage, 


358  APPENDIX. 

Mountford ;  of  an  Italian  priest,  Father  Aiigelo ;  and 
finally  of  the  steward,  Omskirk,  who  is  adopted.  It  will 
be  noticed  that  Mountford  is  here  endowed  (for  the  mo- 
ment) with  the  birthright  of  good  Doctor  Hammond,  the 
Warden.  He  is  represented  as  having  made  the  journey 
to  America  in  search  of  the  grave.  This  alteration  being 
inconsistent  with  the  true  thread  of  the  story,  and  being, 
moreover,  not  continued,  I  have  placed  this  passage  in  the 
Appendix,  instead  of  in  the  text. 

KEDCLYFFE  often,  in  the  dim  weather,  when  the  pro- 
phetic intimations  of  rain  were  too  strong  to  allow  an 
American  to  walk  abroad  with  peace  of  mind,  was  in  the 
habit  of  pacing  this  noble  hall,  and  watching  the  process 
of  renewal  and  adornment ;  or,  which  suited  him  still  bet- 
ter, of  enjoying  its  great,  deep  solitude  when  the  workmen 
were  away.  Parties  of  visitors,  curious  tourists,  sometimes 
peeped  in,  took  a  cursory  glimpse  at  the  old  hall,  and  went 
away ;  these  were  the  only  ordinary  disturbances.  But, 
cne  day,  a  person  entered,  looked  carelessly  round  the  hall, 
as  if  its  antiquity  had  no  great  charm  to  him ;  then  he 
seemed  to  approach  Redclylfe,  who  stood  far  and  dim  in 
the  remote  distance  of  the  great  room.  The  echoing  of 
feet  on  the  stone  pavement  of  the  hall  had  always  an  im- 
pressive sound,  and  turning  his  head  towards  the  visitant 
Edward  stood  as  if  there  were  an  expectance  for  him  in 
this  approach.  It  was  a  middle-aged  man  —  rather,  a 
man  towards  fifty,  with  an  alert,  capable  air ;  a  man  evi- 
dently with  something  to  do  in  life,  and  not  in  the  habit 
of  throwing  away  his  moments  in  looking  at  old  halls ;  a 
gentlemanly  man  enough,  too.  He  approached  RedclyHe 
without  hesitation,  and,  lifting  his  hat,  addressed  him  in  a 


APPENDIX.  359 

way  that  made  Edward  wonder  whether  he  could  be  an 
Englishman.  If  so,  he  must  have  known  that  Edward 
was  an  American,  and  have  been  trying  to  adapt  his  man- 
ners to  those  of  a  democratic  freedom. 

"  Mr.  Eedclyffe,  I  believe,"  said  he. 

Redcly ffe  bowed,  with  the  stiff  caution  of  an  Englishman ; 
for,  with  American  mobility,  he  had  learned  to  be  stiff. 

"  I  think  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  —  at  least 
of  meeting  —  you  very  long  ago,"  said  the  gentleman. 
"But  I  see  you  do  not  recollect  me." 

Eedclyffe  confessed  that  the  stranger  had  the  advan- 
tage of  him  in  his  recollection  of  a  previous  acquaintance. 

"  No  wonder,"  said  the  other,  "  for,  as  I  have  already 
hinted,  it  was  many  years  ago." 

"  In  my  own  country  then,  of  course,"  said  Eedclyffe. 

"In  your  own  country  certainly,"  said  the  stranger, 
"  and  when  it  would  have  required  n  penetrating  eye  to 
see  the  distinguished  Mr.  Eedclyffe,  the  representative  of 
American  democracy  abroad,  in  the  little  pale-faced,  intelli- 
gent boy,  dwelling  with  an  old  humorist  in  the  corner  of 
a  graveyard." 

At  these  words  Eedclyffe  sent  back  his  recollections, 
and,  though  doubtfully,  began  to  be  aware  that  this  must 
needs  be  the  young  Englishman  who  had  come  to  his 
guardian  on  such  a  singular  errand  as  to  search  an  old 
grave.  It  must  be  he,  for  it  could  be  nobody  else  ;  and, 
in  truth,  he  had  a  sense  of  his  identity,  —  which,  however, 
did  not  express  itself  by  anything  that  he  could  confidently 
remember  in  his  looks,  manner,  or  voice,  —  yet,  if  anything, 
it  was  most  in  the  voice.  But  the  image  which,  on  search- 
ing, he  found  in  his  mind  of  a  fresh-colored  young  English- 
man, with  light  hair  and  a  frank,  pleasant  face,  was  terribly 


360  APPENDIX. 

realized  for  the  worse  in  this  somewhat  heavy  figure,  and 
coarser  face,  and  heavier  eye.  In  fact,  there  is  a  terrible 
difference  between  the  mature  Englishman  and  the  young 
man  who  is  not  yet  quite  out  of  his  blossom.  His  hair, 
too,  was  getting  streaked  and  sprinkled  with  gray ;  and, 
in  short,  there  were  evident  marks  of  his  having  worked, 
and  succeeded,  and  failed,  and  eaten  and  drunk,  and  being 
made  largely  of  beef,  ale,  port,  and  sherry,  and  all  the 
solidities  of  English  life. 

"  I  remember  you  now,"  said  Redclyffe,  extending  his 
hand  frankly ;  and  yet  Mountford  took  it  in  so  cold  a  way 
that  he  was  immediately  sorry  that  he  had  done  it,  and 
called  up  an  extra  portion  of  reserve  to  freeze  the  rest  of 
the  interview.  He  continued,  coolly  enough,  "I  remem- 
ber you,  and  something  of  your  American  errand,  —  which, 
indeed,  has  frequently  been  in  my  mind  since.  I  hope 
you  found  the  results  of  your  voyage,  in  the  way  of  dis- 
covery, sufficiently  successful  to  justify  so  much  trouble." 

"  You  will  remember."  said  Mountford,  "  that  the  grave 
proved  quite  unproductive.  Yes,  you  will  not  have  for- 
gotten it ;  for  I  well  recollect  how  eagerly  you  listened, 
with  that  queer  little  girl,  to  my  talk  with  the  old  gov- 
ernor, and  how  disappointed  you  seemed  when  you  found 
that  the  grave  was  not  to  be  opened.  And  yet,  it  is  very 
odd.  I  failed  in  that  mission ;  and  yet  there  are  circum- 
stances that  have  led  me  to  think  that  I  ought  to  have 
succeeded  better,  —  that  some  other  person  has  really  suc- 
ceeded better." 

Redclyffe  was  silent ;  but  he  remembered  the  strange 
old  silver  key,  and  how  he  had  kept  it  secret,  and  the 
doubts  that  had  troubled  his  mind  then  and  long  after- 
wards, whether  he  ought  not  to  have  found  means  to  con- 


APPENDIX.  361 

vey  it  to  the  stranger,  and  ask  whether  that  was  what  he 
sought.  And  now  here  was  that  same  doubt  and  question 
coming  up  again,  and  he  found  himself  quite  as  little  able 
to  solve  it  as  he  had  been  twenty  years  ago.  Indeed,  with 
the  views  that  had  come  up  since,  it  behooved  him  to  be 
cautious,  until  he  knew  both  the  man  and  the  circum- 
stances. 

"You  are  probably  aware,"  continued  Mountford,  —  "for 
I  understand  you  have  been  some  time  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, —  that  there  is  a  pretended  claim,  a  contesting  claim, 
to  the  present  possession  of  the  estate  of  Braithwaite,  and  a 
long  dormant  title.  Possibly  —  who  knows  1  —  you  your- 
self might  have  a  claim  to  one  or  the  other.  Would  not 
that  be  a  singular  coincidence  ]  Have  you  ever  had  the 
curiosity  to  investigate  your  parentage  with  a  view  to  this 
point  1 " 

"The  title,"  replied  Redclyffe,  "ought  not  to  be  a  very 
strong  consideration  with  an  American.  One  of  us  would 
bo  ashamed,  I  verily  believe,  to  assume  any  distinction, 
except  such  as  may  be  supposed  to  indicate  personal,  not 
hereditary  merit.  We  have  in  some  measure,  I  think, 
lost  the  feeling  of  the  past,  and  even  of  the  future,  as  re- 
gards our  own  lines  of  descent ;  and  even  as  to  wealth,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  idea  of  heaping  up  a  pile  of  gold,  or 
accumulating  a  broad  estate  for  our  children  and  remoter 
descendants,  is  dying  out.  We  wish  to  enjoy  the  fulness 
of  our  success  in  life  ourselves,  and  leave  to  those  who  de- 
scend from  us  the  task  of  providing  for  themselves.  This 
tendency  is  seen  in  our  lavish  expenditure,  and  the  whole 
arrangement  of  our  lives ;  and  it  is  slowly  —  yet  not  very 
slowly,  either  —  effecting  a  change  in  the  whole  economy 
of  American  life." 


362  APPENDIX. 

"Still,"  rejoined  Mr.  Mountford,  with  a  smile  that  Eed- 
clyffe  fancied  was  dark  and  subtle,  "  still,  I  should  imagine 
that  even  an  American  might  recall  so  much  of  hered- 
itary prejudice  as  to  be  sensible  of  some  earthly  advan- 
tages in  the  possession  of  an  ancient  title  and  hereditary 
estate  like  this.  Personal  distinction  may  suit  you  better, 
—  to  be  an  Ambassador  by  your  own  talent ;  to  have  a 
future  for  yourself,  involving  the  possibility  of  ranking 
(though  it  were  only  for  four  years)  among  the  acknowl- 
edged sovereigns  of  the  earth  ;  —  this  is  very  good.  But  if 
the  silver  key  would  open  the  shut  up  secret  to-day,  it 
might  be  possible  that  you  would  relinquish  these  advan- 
tages.'' 

Before  Redclyffe  could  reply,  (and,  indeed,  there  seemed 
to  be  an  allusion  at  the  close  of  Mountford's  speech  which, 
whether  intended  or  not,  he  knew  not  how  to  reply  to,)  a 
young  lady  entered  the  hall,  whom  he  was  at  no  loss,  by  the 
colored  light  of  a  painted  window  that  fell  upon  her,  trans- 
lating her  out  of  the  common  daylight,  to  recognize  as  the 
relative  of  the  pensioner.  She  seemed  to  have  come  to 
give  her  fanciful  superintendence  to  some  of  the  decora- 
tions of  the  hall ;  such  as  required  woman's  taste,  rather 
than  the  sturdy  English  judgment  and  antiquarian  knowl- 
edge of  the  Warden.  Slowly  following  after  her  came  the 
pensioner  himself,  leaning  on  his  staff  and  looking  up  at 
the  old  roof  and  around  him  with  a  benign  composure,  and 
himself  a  fitting  figure  by  his  antique  and  venerable  ap- 
pearance to  walk  in  that  old  hall. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mountford,  to  Redclyffe's  surprise,  "  here 
is  an  acquaintance  —  two  acquaintances  of  mine." 

He  moved  along  the  hall  to  accost  them ;  and  as  he  ap- 
peared to  expect  that  Redclyffe  would  still  keep  him  com- 


APPENDIX.  363 

pany,  and  as  the  latter  had  no  reason  for  not  doing  so, 
they  both  advanced  to  the  pensioner,  who  was  now  lean- 
ing on  the  young  woman's  arm.  The  incident,  too,  was 
not  unacceptable  to  the  American,  as  promising  to  bring 
him  into  a  more  available  relation  with  her  —  whom  he 
half  fancied  to  be  his  old  American  acquaintance  —  than 
he  had  yet  succeeded  in  obtaining. 

"  Well,  my  old  friend,"  said  Mountford,  after  bowing 
with  a  certain  measured  respect  to  the  young  woman, 
"  how  wears  life  with  you  1  Rather,  perhaps,  it  does  not 
wear  at  all ;  you  being  so  well  suited  to  the  life  around 
you,  you  grow  by  it  like  a  lichen  on  a  wall.  I  could  fancy 
now  that  you  have  walked  here  for  three  hundred  years, 
and  remember  when  King  James  of  blessed  memory  was 
entertained  in  this  hall,  and  could  marshal  out  all  the 
ceremonies  just  as  they  were  then." 

"  An  old  man,"  said  the  pensioner,  quietly,  "  grows 
dreamy  as  he  wanes  away ;  and  I,  too,  am  sometimes  at  a 
loss  to  know  whether  I  am  living  in  the  past  or  the  pres- 
ent, or  whereabouts  in  time  I  am,  —  or  whether  there  is 
any  time  at  all.  But  I  should  think  it  hardly  worth  while 
to  call  up  one  of  my  shifting  dreams  more  than  another." 

"  I  confess,"  said  Redclyffe,  "  I  shall  find  it  impossible 
to  call  up  this  scene  —  any  of  these  scenes  —  hereafter, 
without  the  venerable  figure  of  this,  whom  I  may  truly 
call  my  benefactor,  among  them.  I  fancy  him  among 
them  from  the  foundation,  —  young  then,  but  keeping 
just  the  equal  step  with  their  age  and  decay,  —  and  still 
doing  good  and  hospitable  deeds  to  those  who  need 
them." 

The  old  man  seemed  not  to  like  to  hear  these  remarks 
and  expressions  of  gratitude  from  Mountford  and  the 


364  APPENDIX. 

American ;  at  any  rate,  he  moved  away  with  his  slow  and 
light  motion  of  infirmity,  but  then  came  uneasily  back, 
displaying  a  certain  quiet  restlessness,  which  KedclyfFe  was 
sympathetic  enough  to  perceive.  Not  so  the  sturdier, 
more  heavily  moulded  Englishman,  who  continued  to 
direct  the  conversation  upon  the  pensioner,  or  at  least  to 
make  him  a  part  of  it,  thereby  bringing  out  more  of  his 
strange  characteristics.  In  truth,  it  is  not  quite  easy  for 
an  Englishman  to  know  how  to  adapt  himself  to  the  fine 
feelings  of  those  below  him  in  point  of  station,  whatever 
gentlemanly  deference  he  may  have  for  his  equals  or  supe- 
riors. 

"  I  should  like  now,  father  pensioner,"  said  he,  "  to 
know  how  many  steps  you  may  have  taken  in  life  before 
your  path  led  into  this  hole,  and  whence  your  course 
started." 

"  Do  not  let  him  speak  thus  to  the  old  man,"  said  the 
.young  woman,  in  a  low,  earnest  tone,  to  Eedclyffe.  He 
was  surprised  and  startled;  it  seemed  like  a  voice  that 
has  spoken  to  his  boyhood. 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  Eedclyffe's  place  is  next  to 
that  of  the  proprietor  at  table." 

Note  3.  Author's  note.  —  "  Dwell  upon  the  antique  liv- 
eried servants  somewhat." 

Note  4.  Author's  note.  —  "  The  rose-water  must  precede 
the  toasts." 

Note  5.  Author's  note.  —  "  The  jollity  of  the  Warden  at 
the  feast  to  be  noticed;  and  afterwards  explain  that  he 
had  drunk  nothing." 

Note  6.  Author's  note.  —  "  Mention  the  old  silver  snuff- 
box which  I  saw  at  the  Liverpool  Mayor's  dinner." 


APPENDIX.  365 

CHAPTER   XX. 

Note  1.  This  is  not  the  version  of  "the  story  as  indi- 
cated in  the  earlier  portion  of  the  romance.  It  is  there 
implied  that  Elsie  is  the  Doctor's  granddaughter,  her 
mother  having  been  the  Doctor's  daughter,  who  was  ruined 
by  the  then  possessor  of  the  Braithwaite  estates,  and  who 
died  in  consequence.  That  the  Doctor's  scheme  of  revenge 
was  far  deeper  and  more  terrible  than  simply  to  oust  the 
family  from  its  possessions,  will  appear  further  on. 

Note  2.  The  foregoing  passage  was  evidently  experi- 
mental, and  the  author  expresses  his  estimate  of  its  value 
in  the  following  words,  —  "  What  unimaginable  nonsense !" 
He  then  goes,  on  to  make  the  following  memoranda  as  to 
the  plot.  It  should  be  remembered,  however,  that  all 
this  part  of  the  romance  was  written  before  the  American 
part. 

"  Half  of  a  secret  is  preserved  in  England ;  that  is  to 
say,  in  the  particular  part  of  the  mansion  in  which  an  old 
coifer  is  hidden ;  the  other  part  is  carried  to  America.  One 
key  of  an  elaborate  lock  is  retained  in  England,  among 
some  old  curiosities  of  forgotten  purpose  ;  the  other  is  the 
silver  key  that  Eedclyffe  found  beside  the  grave.  A  treas- 
ure of  gold  is  what  they  expect ;  they  find  a  treasure  of 
golden  locks.  This  lady,  the  beloved  of  the  Bloody  Foot- 
step, had  been  murdered  and  hidden  in  the  coffer  on  ac- 
count of  jealousy.  Elsie  must  know  the  baselessness  of 
Redclyffe's  claims,  and  be  loath  to  tell  him,  because  she  sees 
that  he  is  so  much  interested  in  them.  She  has  a  paper 
of  the  old  Doctor's  revealing  the  whole  plot,  —  a  death-bed 
confession ;  RedclyfTe  having  been  absent  at  the  time." 

The  reader  will  recollect  that  this  latter  suggestion  was 


366  APPENDIX. 

not  adopted :  there  was  no  death-bed  confession.  As  re- 
gards the  coffer  full  of  golden  locks,  it  was  suggested  by 
an  incident  recorded  in  the  "English  Note-Books,"  1854. 
"  The  grandmother  of  Mrs.  0' Sullivan  died  fifty  years  ago, 
at  the  age  of  twenty-eight.  She  had  great  personal  charms, 
and  among  them  a  head  of  beautiful  chestnut  hair.  After 
her  burial  in  a  family  tomb,  the  coffin  of  one  of  her  children 
was  laid  on  her  own,  so  that  the  lid  seems  to  have  decayed, 
or  been  broken  from  this  cause ;  at  any  rate,  this  was  the 
case  when  the  tomb  was  opened,  about  a  year  ago.  The 
grandmother's  coffin  was  then  found  to  be  filled  with  beau- 
tiful, glossy,  living  chestnut  ringlets,  into  which  her  whole 
substance  seems  to  have  been  transformed,  for  there  was 
nothing  else  but  these  shining  curls,  the  growth  of  half  a 
century,  in  the  tomb.  An  old  man,  with  a  ringlet  of  his 
youthful  mistress  treasured  in  his  heart,  might  be  supposed 
to  witness  this  wonderful  thing." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Note  1.  In  a  study  of  the  plot,  too  long  to  insert  here, 
this  new  character  of  the  steward  is  introduced  and  de- 
scribed. It  must  suffice  to  say,  in  this  place,  that  he  was 
intimately  connected  with  Dr.  Grimshawe,  who  had  resus- 
citated him  after  he  had  been  hanged,  and  had  thus  gained 
his  gratitude  and  secured  his  implicit  obedience  to  his 
wishes,  even  twenty  years  after  his  (Grimshawe's)  death. 
The  use  the  Doctor  made  of  him  was  to  establish  him  in 
Braithwaite  Hall  as  the  perpetual  confidential  servant  of 
the  owners  thereof.  Of  course,  the  latter  are  not  aware 


APPENDIX.  367 

that  the  steward  is  acting  in  Grimshawe's  interest,  and 
therefore  in  deadly  opposition  to  their  own.  Precisely 
what  the  steward's  mission  in  life  was,  will  appear  here- 
after. 

The  study  above  alluded  to,  with  others,  amounting  to 
about  a  hundred  pages,  will  be  published  as  a  supplement 
to  a  future  edition  of  this  work. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Note  1.  Author's  note.  —  "  Eedclyffe  lies  in  a  dreamy 
state,  thinking  fantastically,  as  if  he  were  one  of  the  seven 
sleepers.  He  does  not  yet  open  his  eyes,  but  lies  there  in 
a  maze." 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  Eedclyffe  must  look  at  the 
old  man  quietly  and  dreamily,  and  without  surprise,  for  a 
long  while." 

Note  3.  Presumably  the  true  name  of  Doctor  Grim- 
shawe. 

Note  4.  This  mysterious  prisoner,  Sir  Edward  Red- 
clyffe,  is  not,  of  course,  the  Sir  Edward  who  founded  the 
Hospital,  but  a  descendant  of  that  man,  who  ruined  Doctor 
Grimshawe's  daughter,  and  is  the  father  of  Elsie.  He  had 
been  confined  in  this  chamber,  by  the  Doctor's  contrivance, 
ever  since,  Omskirk  being  his  jailer,  as  is  foreshadowed  in 
Chapter  XL  He  has  been  kept  in  the  belief  that  he  killed 
Grimshawe,  in  a  struggle  that  took  place  between  them ; 
and  that  his  confinement  in  the  secret  chamber  is  volun- 
tary on  his  own  part,  —  a  measure  of  precaution  to  prevent 
arrest  and  execution  for  murder.  In  this  miserable  delu- 


368  APPENDIX. 

sion  he  has  cowered  there  for  five  and  thirty  years.  This, 
and  various  other  dusky  points,  are  partly  elucidated  in  the 
notes  hereafter  to  be  appended  to  this  volume. 


CHAPTER   XXY. 

Note  1.  At  this  point,  the  author,  for  what  reason  I 
will  not  venture  to  surmise,  chooses  to  append  this  gloss  : 
"  Bubble-and-Squeak  ! " 

Note  2.  Author's  note.  —  "  They  found  him  in  the  hall, 
about  to  go  out." 

Note  3.     Elsie  appears  to  have  joined  the  party. 


THE    END. 


University  Press  :  John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


